


Communal Showers: Academy Edition

by SnailedIt_O_V



Series: Communal Showers [1]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Betaed by MS Word Read Aloud, M/M, Mild Language, Rare Pairings, Surprise Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14503122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnailedIt_O_V/pseuds/SnailedIt_O_V
Summary: Immerse yourself in the steamy shower room encounters experienced by Otoya, Tokiya, Ren, Masato, Syo, and Natsuki as they settle into dorm life during their year at Saotome Academy. Sorry, Cecil doesn’t make an appearance in this series because no matter how you think about it, having a cat show up in the shower room is somehow even more unlikely to me than the pairings I’m about to subject you to.





	1. Syo X Masato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syo has finished showering, but realizes he’s forgotten his towel. Masato steps in to help and gets a thank-you from Syo that’s more than he’s bargained for.

          Syo closes his eyes, tipping his head back and letting the warm water flow over his shoulders, appreciating the silence of the unusually empty communal shower room. It’s been a hell of a day with dance practice, vocal lessons, and escaping Natsuki’s well-intentioned but totally inappropriate attempts to doll him up. He’s not stressed exactly, but neither is he completely relaxed yet. He’s not sure what else he needs to do to feel settled, but the shower is helping. There is something he still has to do this evening…ah right, that lyrics assignment is still on his desk. It’s due in three days, so the responsible thing to do would be to turn off the water, grab his towel, dry off, and take himself and his shower stuff back to his dorm room. With luck, Natsuki will be working on his own assignments, or better yet, off somewhere else completely.

          Turn off the water…

          Grab his towel…

_Oh. Shit._

          Syo groans internally. How could he have forgotten such a basic thing? He stands in the middle of the communal shower room, staring at all the empty hooks on the wall opposite of the shower heads. The room echoes with the sound of water dripping from the recently used shower head, and Syo no longer appreciates the desertedness of the place. Clutching his bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, he contemplates his options. His clothes are in a basket on a shelf around the corner, but he couldn’t just dry himself off with his t-shirt, right? He had left his phone in his room, so he couldn’t call Natsuki for help.

          A small shiver works its way up from the base of Syo’s spine, growing in intensity until his shoulders shake and he nearly drops his bottles. He moves back to the shower he just used, sets the bottles down, and turns the water back on so he can warm up. Perhaps if he’s in here long enough someone will come looking for him. He imagines himself growing exaggeratedly pruney from standing under the water all night, and the mental image is funny enough to make him chuckle to himself despite the situation. He soaks up the warmth of the water cascading over his head and shoulders, hoping that he really won’t have to wait that long.

          As luck would have it, Syo only has to wait for about three minutes before help arrives.

          The rush of the water is loud enough over Syo’s ears that he misses the shuffling sound of someone claiming another basket on the shelf around the corner. His eyes are closed, so it is not until he hears another shower being turned on that he realizes he is no longer alone. Quickly, he opens his eyes and shakes the water out of his hair.

          “Oh my God, Hijirikawa! This is great!”

          “Ah, Kurusu.” Masato responds with a tight smile and a slight nod, colouring slightly under Syo’s unreserved gaze. Syo’s odd enthusiasm over his presence is a little disconcerting, and it makes him flustered. He’s barely wet, but already he’s squeezed some shampoo into his palm, lathering it up and working it into his hair. “Can I…er…do something for you?”

          Syo chuckles but notes Masato’s embarrassment and redirects his gaze. Mostly. Masato’s blush is faint, but since his skin is so white Syo can’t help but notice it travel down the length of his neck and spread a little across his chest.

          Right, towel.

          “Yeah, it looks like I somehow forgot my towel when I was grabbing my shower stuff. I’ve been done for ages but got cold and stood under the shower waiting for someone to come,” Syo shrugs and scratches his head sheepishly. “Since you’re here, I was hoping you could run back and get one from my room for me.”

          Masato stops midway, fingers tangled in soapy hair, and stares quizzically at Syo. Now, it’s Syo’s turn to blush a little. What’s with that sudden direct gaze? Was his request really that strange?

          “Well…it’s not that I don’t want to assist you, but I…well…I’m already…” Masato flicks his gaze upward toward his lathered hair and manages a shrug.

          “Oh…right,” Syo groans internally again, wondering when he will finally learn to think before speaking. He feels so stupid. Of course Masato can’t help, since he’s already wet and covered in shampoo. Masato’s reaction to his stare isn’t helping either. That stupid blush on his stupid, white skin…

          “I might have a solution,” Masato tips his head back to rinse away the shampoo trickling into his eyes, then manages to look…well, not right at Syo, but somewhere in his general direction. “Since I am still in the middle of showering, take my towel for now. Dry off, get dressed, then go to my room and get another towel for me from my dresser. Second drawer on the left, right side of the room. Jinguji should still be there if you can’t find it. He’ll tell you where to look.”

          “You sure? I mean, that would really help a ton, but…”

          “I mean it. Go.” Masato manages another small smile, not quite as tense as the first, and Syo feels relieved.

          “Well, alright then. I’ll be back as quick as I can.” Syo grabs the cornflower-blue towel from the hook and dashes around the corner, trying not to slip. He hears a quiet chuckle and a “Don’t slip” from Masato. Syo starts blushing again and tries to get himself under control. It’s not like he knows Masato that well, since they’re in different classes and have no common interests outside of music. As he rapidly pats himself down, he tries to justify Masato’s actions. Was he just pitying Syo’s predicament? No, based on the way he carries himself, he’s got a healthy appreciation for respecting another person’s pride. Certainly, there is nothing malicious about Masato.

          And that damn blush…

          Syo shakes his head and shuffles into his old clothes. Clearly, he had not only forgotten his towel, but also a clean change of clothes. He must be more out of sorts than he thought. Slipping on his flipflops, he jogs to the room Ren and Masato share. At least he’s a little more comfortable around Ren, since they’re classmates. _But_ , Syo thinks, _Hijirikawa’s worth getting to know a little more too_. He stops in front of the door and hesitates. He’s never been inside their room before and if he’s honest, he’s not even sure he’s at the right one. He knocks.

          “It’s open.” Ren’s voice is muffled by the door. Relieved that he found the right room, Syo turns the doorknob.

          “Hey Jinguji.” Syo enters the room and looks around. The two sides of the room couldn’t be more different from each other. Before he can take it all in, a thunk catches his attention, and he looks over to see Ren still holding his dart-throwing position after nailing a bullseye.

          “Ochibi-chan, what brings you here?” Ren has an easy smile on his face, and Syo defaults to his usual reaction to Ren’s nickname for him. “Don’t call me short!” Syo scowls and shakes his fist at him, trying to look threatening and serious.

          “Yes, yes,” Ren laughs, unperturbed by Syo’s reaction, but his expression turns into a look of puzzlement when he catches sight of Masato’s towel. “Why do you have Hijiri’s towel?”

          Syo glances at the towel in his hand and calms down a little. “Ah, well…I had sort of forgot mine, so Hijirikawa let me borrow his.” Syo looks for the dresser on Masato’s side of the room, locates the drawer, and pulls out a clean blue towel.

          “So Hijirikawa is without a towel right now?” Ren chuckles at the thought. “He must be so uncomfortable, waiting for you to come back. He doesn’t have brothers, you know, so this whole communal showers thing is really messing with him. I mean, onsens are one thing – there’s a sense of dignity and aesthetic there befitting Hijiri’s upbringing, you know what I mean? But -” He tosses another dart, lands another bullseye. “Anything can happen in a shower room.” He tips a wink at Syo, and Masato’s blush pushes itself once again to the forefront of Syo’s mind.

          Syo tries to change the subject before his imagination gets the better of him. “Alright then, well…I got what I came for. I …I guess I’ll get going then.”

          Ren saunters over to his dart board and plucks out the darts. “Don’t leave Hijiri waiting too long now, Ochibi-chan.” Another wink, another _thunk_ , and Syo is out the door, grateful to escape Ren’s teasing. Really now, Ren’s mastery of innuendo knows no bounds, whether he’s flirting with girls or teasing the guys.

          But all the way back to the shower room, Ren’s “anything can happen in a shower room” replays in Syo’s mind.

          Once he’s back in the shower room, Syo halts in indecision. The events over the last few minutes have made Syo’s grasp on logic a little tenuous, and it’s entirely possible at this point that he’s not fully capable of making good decisions. Maybe he stood under the hot water too long before Masato showed up. He’s dressed, but he’s wearing the clothes he had on before his shower. He also still has the borrowed towel, which he’ll wash later and return. In the meantime, he could go into the shower area to hang up Masato’s towel for him, but it would be weird going in there with clothes on. Oh yeah, he left his shower stuff behind on the floor. So, whether it makes sense or not, Syo decides that the best solution is to remove his clothes, hang up Masato’s towel, grab his stuff, dry off again with the borrowed towel, and call it a day.

          He strips, grabs both towels, and walks briskly into the shower area.

          And stops.

          Masato has his back to the entry, head tipped back to avoid getting a face full of water. He’s massaging his right shoulder with his left hand, and the warm water has tinged his whole body a delicate shade of pink _just like his blush_.

          Syo stands there and swallows. He can’t help it, he’s losing control, he’s got to do something or he’ll explode. Quietly, he hangs up the towels and takes a few quick strides toward Masato. On impulse, he wraps his muscular arms around Masato’s waist and presses himself against his body, resting his head between Masato’s shoulder blades. Masato stiffens.

          “K…Kurusu? Is that you?” Masato tries to twist his head around to see but Syo’s grip around his waist keeps him from moving easily.

          “Mmm, yeah. I just…I couldn’t help it – your blush, I mean…I wanted to see it again,” Syo mumbles into Masato’s back as the water streams over the both of them.

          Masato’s eyes widen, and he tries to squirm again. “Wha-? Kurusu, let go. Please.”

          Syo loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go. “Let me thank you for lending me your towel.” Syo’s hands start moving – one towards Masato’s chest, and the other low on Masato’s belly. Masato’s breathing is shallow, restrained. When Syo flicks his nipple, Masato’s breath catches in his throat, and Syo’s own member twitches in response.

          “Kurusu, this is…I don’t know if I want – this type of thanks from you.”

          “Let me. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

          Syo moves his hand on Masato’s belly a little further down, stops, and flicks Masato’s nipple with his other hand again. This time Masato jolts, and Syo feels him place his hands over top of Syo’s. Time seems to stretch on forever while Syo waits for Masato’s response, listening to his deep, unsteady breaths. Syo starts having second thoughts, and is about to let Masato go, taking his silence as a rejection. When Masato finally speaks, Syo almost misses it under the rush of the running water.

          “Ok.”

          That simple word sends a thousand different sensations through Syo. He presses a kiss between Masato’s shoulder blades and tightens his grip around Masato’s torso, feeling himself losing control but also wary of scaring Masato by moving too fast. He wants to mark that perfect white skin, but he also wants to keep it perfect and unblemished. _Calm down, calm down_ , he tells himself. _No need to rush this_.

          “Ok,” Syo murmurs back. “Just a sec.” Taking a few calming breaths, he removes himself from Masato’s body just long enough to reach down where he left his bottles of shower stuff and takes the conditioner. It’s slippery enough without washing away immediately, unlike soap. He squirts a generous amount into his palm and warms it between his hands. Masato watches him out of the corner of his eye, standing stock-still and slightly tense – but was that a touch of curiosity in Masato’s expression? Syo hopes it is. He realizes he wants Masato to enjoy this as much as he does, and that he’s going to have to work hard to reign in his energy and impatience.

          Syo molds himself onto Masato’s back once more, leaving another kiss between his shoulder blades. He trails his conditioner-lathered hands over Masato’s chest and abdomen, letting him get accustomed to Syo’s touch. He leans back enough to run his hands over Masato’s shoulders and down his sides, easing away his tension. Finally, Masato starts relaxing into Syo’s touch, even anticipating certain movements like when Syo squeezes his shoulders or moves across his chest.

          Syo reaches down and squeezes out more conditioner into his palms. He slips his arms around Masato’s waist, letting one hand trail a slippery finger down his stomach and brush through the hair at the base of his cock. It’s surprisingly soft, and Masato lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for ages.

          “Can I touch you?” Syo asks quietly, swirling his finger through the hair.

          “Yes,” Masato affirms after a moment of hesitation. He’s looking down, watching the movement of Syo’s finger in his pubic hair and Syo can feel Masato respond to his teasing touch. Ah - Masato is blushing again, but this time Syo’s pretty sure it’s as much from excitement as from embarrassment. The sight of Masato’s blush feeds into his need, and he can feel himself growing harder against the curve of Masato’s ass.

          Syo wraps one slippery hand around Masato’s cock and strokes slowly from base to tip, letting Masato adjust to his grip and feeling a rush of pleasure at the feel of Masato getting harder under his touch. He can’t hear if Masato is making any noises because of the water still washing over them, but he can feel that Masato’s breathing has sped up. He finds a steady rhythm and grip, and Masato slowly leans forward a little to rest his hands against the wall as he allows himself to feel pleasure in Syo’s touch. The change in Masato’s posture lets Syo use his other hand to stroke himself enough to get slippery. He gently presses his cock to the inside of Masato’s thighs while continuing the rhythmic strokes on Masato’s cock.

          “Hey, Hijirikawa,” Syo’s panting a little from the effort, and he slows his strokes. “I want your thighs. Press your legs together. I won’t let you fall.”

          “My…thighs?” Masato asks, turning his head slightly. “I don’t follow.”

          “You will in a sec. Just do it.”

          Masato complies, and Syo pushes his cock between his thighs. As he slides himself in, his hand glides down Masato’s length, pushing against the base of his cock at the same time the base of Syo’s own cock presses against Masato’s thighs. The effect is electric. Masato almost makes a noise, choking it down at the last second, while Syo doesn’t bother holding back his own grunt of satisfaction. Again, he repeats the process, and when he’s sure Masato has gotten used to the feeling, he finds a rhythm that works for both of them and starts pumping Masato in earnest.

          “Ah…Kuru-ah! There is…just-” Masato gasps incoherently under the running water as Syo moves, feeling for Masato’s sweet spots.

          “Hijirikawa…all right?” Syo checks in, gasping, just barely mindful of Masato’s needs as he drowns in his own sensations. While he works Masato’s length with one hand, his grip is firm on Masato’s hip with the other, and he notices that the skin under his grip is turning pink. It’s not permanent, like a kiss mark, but it’s a mark, and _he’s the one making that mark on Masato’s hip_.

          “I…I’m fine… Please…I need – don’t stop,” Masato stutters out, and that blush that’s been driving Syo crazy creeps out once more as Masato acknowledges his need, even as he feels shame in the act of expressing his need out loud. The blush, the marks, Masato quietly begging for release – it’s all too much for Syo.

          “Fuck, Hijirikawa, I’m so close. Hang in there – together now...” He pumps Masato faster, increasing his own rhythmic thrusting while murmuring encouraging sounds into Masato’s back. Masato, in turn, squeezes his thighs together more firmly, stretching up against the tiled wall for better balance. Syo can feel him shaking and feels his own release building unbearably in his groin.

          “I’m – Hijiri-, augh!”

          “Kurusu!”

          Together, shaking so hard Syo can see stars, they come. Masato sags against the wall, exhausted and panting, resting his head between his forearms against the wall as he balances on wobbly legs. Syo leans against him, breathing hard. His arms are around Masato’s waist, but he’s not entirely sure if he’s keeping himself or Masato from collapsing. Syo’s hand is covered in conditioner and come, and he can see his own contribution running down Masato’s thigh. He wants to rinse off, but he also just wants to pass out in a post-orgasm nap. Looking at Masato, Syo figures he’s feeling something similar.

          Suddenly, Masato turns to face Syo. His back blocks the streaming water, but a fine mist cascades over his shoulders. Slowly, he takes Syo’s come-covered hand and rinses it under the water, gently massaging his palm. Syo starts to blush – this is definitely not something he was expecting from Masato.

          “Thank you, Kurusu. That was…um. It was…” Masato focuses his gaze on Syo’s hand. His face is red, and Syo feels a pang in his groin at the sight of that blush, made of two parts exertion and one part shyness.

          “Yeah, that was – heh, I should be thanking you, letting me do something like that.” Syo gently pulls his hand away, looking down and away. He wants to laugh it off, keep it casual and light-hearted, but it’s hard for him to bounce back to his usual demeanor, and Masato’s shyness is making him feel shy. He moves over to the shower next to Masato’s and turns the water on to rinse off the rest of the conditioner. It’s cold at first, and goosebumps pebble Syo’s skin. Silently, the two of them rinse off. Masato finishes first and gathers up his belongings along with the dry towel Syo had brought for him. With a nod and a small smile, he vanishes from Syo’s sight around the corner.

          After a minute, Syo turns off the water and gathers his shower stuff. _Looks like I’m gonna have to buy more conditioner_. He is once again left alone in the communal shower room, but this time he has a borrowed cornflower-blue towel waiting for him. He lifts the towel from the hook and wraps it one-handedly around himself, reflecting on what just happened. His brain is still in a post-orgasm haze, and he’s definitely going to have a nap before tackling his lyrics assignment. Probably, he and Masato will never speak of this as long as the both of them live – certainly it was an odd way to interact with a fellow idol from another class. But…well, Masato didn’t look like he had hated it, and Syo lets himself hope that though they may be rivals in the idol business, they could also be friends as well.

 _Well, if we don’t end up being friends_ , Syo thinks as he leaves the shower room, _I hope I at least get to see him blush again sometime_.

          He plans on returning that towel washed and folded especially neatly.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real reason Syo's colour is pink...
> 
> Unless you all throw digital rotten tomatoes at me, the next instalment will be posted on May 16.


	2. Natsuki X Tokiya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tokiya decides to soak away his stress after a particularly difficult dance lesson. Even though he’s using the communal bath, he isn’t expecting company.

            “Whew, I’m beat!” Syo exclaims. Otoya drapes one arm over his shoulders dramatically and moans, leaning over him in mock weakness.

            “Hold me, Syo-chan, my legs have stopped working for good this time.”

            Ren snickers as Syo exaggeratedly but good-naturedly shoves Otoya’s arm away. “Ah, Ikki, that’s a shame. Those poor children at the orphanage won’t have anyone to play soccer with them anymore.” Otoya’s eyes widen at Ren’s suggestion, and Natsuki laughs at his reaction while Masato looks on, amused but reserved. Similar clusters of students gather together, comparing injuries and exhaustion levels while the instructor gathers her dance music and equipment, ready to head home for the day.

            Tokiya observes the bantering from a distance. Despite the goofing around, all the idol students of the A and S classes are sweating and rubbing their sore muscles. Today’s dance lesson seemed particularly grueling in Tokiya’s opinion, and he rubs his shoulder absentmindedly as he goes over the dance moves in his head. Combining the A and S classes for dance lessons is always interesting, and the instructor seems obsessed with testing the limits of their flexibility and endurance. Today’s lesson was no different. Really, Tokiya should be used to this since he already works as HAYATO (unbeknownst to his classmates, of course), but this instructor really knows how to put him through his paces. Carefully, Tokiya bounces lightly on the balls of his feet and winces when his calves and arches protest.  _A soak and some tea will do me good_ , he thinks, and grabs his gym towel, jacket, and water bottle to head out.

            “Tokiya-kun, are you leaving already?” Tokiya turns to see Natsuki take a step in his direction. The others leave off their conversations, attention drawn to Natsuki and Tokiya.

            “Ah, yes. I still have some work to do. Please excuse me.” He hates how stiff and formal he sounds, but it’s become a habit out of necessity for accomplishing his goal of debuting again as himself, putting HAYATO behind him for good. He can’t afford to be distracted by friendly gestures and kind words, however well-intentioned they may be.

            He pushes the door open and sighs as he walks out. He can feel Natsuki’s eyes following him, and he squashes the guilty twinge growing in his gut. Natsuki is especially hard to ignore because he is so sincerely affectionate and well-meaning. Tokiya reflects on his own experience as an idol so far as he walks back to his room and wonders how Natsuki will ever be tough enough to survive the cut-throat competition that awaits them all in the outside world.

            Back in his room, he peels off his sweaty gym clothes and throws on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. He wore them yesterday, but they’re not dirty. He just needs something to wear to walk to the communal shower room, and while some of the guys are more than comfortable walking around in a towel (images of Otoya and Ren streaking down the hall in an impromptu footrace come to mind), Tokiya prefers a more modest approach. He may have to do all manner of things in front of a camera while he’s acting, but the simple act of wearing clothes to the shower room is a sort of declaration of privacy asserted over his off-camera life, even if he’s only declaring that to himself.

            Once in the shower room, he strips and folds his clothes neatly into one of the baskets on the shelves. The shower room is empty, which Tokiya thinks is a little odd considering the workout the A and S class idol students just had. Then again, he had been one of the first people to leave the practice room. He rinses the sweat off under lukewarm water, then pads over to the large soaker tub in the next room. Like everything else in Saotome Academy, the tub is extravagant in its design. The bottom of the tub is sunk well below the level of the floor and bordered by a wall about a foot high above floor level. It can hold five or six people comfortably, and the constantly running water circulation and filtration system means that the tub is always full of clean, hot water. The dim, warm yellow lighting tinges the room with a golden hue, making the atmosphere relaxing and inviting.

            Tokiya sinks slowly into the water, letting the heat soak into his aching muscles. He leans back against the tub’s wall and closes his eyes. For the moment, he’s not stressing about his work as HAYATO, he’s not worried about cultivating “Ichinose Tokiya the idol”, he’s just a tired young man with aching muscles relaxing after a long day. He’s drifting, drifting away, almost dozing, and he doesn’t notice himself slipping lower and lower in the water…

            “Tokiya-kun! Hey, wake up. Come on now – Tokiya-kun!”

            Tokiya jolts awake, and finds strong, finely chiseled arms wrapped around his chest, reaching from behind under his arms. He blinks, looks up, right into the electric green eyes of a very concerned-looking Natsuki. Despite being in the shower room, he’s still wearing his glasses, which Tokiya thinks in passing that this seems odd, but doesn’t have the wherewithal to ask about it before Natsuki speaks.

            “Are you alright? You looked like you passed out – it’s lucky I came by when I did, eh?”

            “Shinomiya-san, I – loosen your arms a little, your grip is…” Tokiya gasps out, and Natsuki releases his grip.

            “Oh, sorry, sorry! But, are you sure you’re alright?” Natsuki asks, peering around Tokiya’s shoulder to get a better look at his face.

            “Yes, I’m awake now, thank you.” Tokiya lifts a hand out of the water and rubs his eyes, then notices his fingers are slightly pruney. How long has he been here?

            “I know!” Natsuki exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I’ll keep you company for a while. I was planning on soaking anyway, so this is perfect.”

            “Ah, well…I appreciate the thought, but you really don’t have to look after me. I should get going, actually.” He starts to rise, but Natsuki rests a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

            “Tokiya-kun,” he says gently. “I actually would really like it if you stayed with me for a little while. Will you please stay?”

            How can Tokiya resist such a sincere request? He sits back down in the water, and Natsuki comes around to step into the tub. He rests against the wall adjacent to the one Tokiya is using and sighs.

            “Mmm, so good. That dance lesson was really something today, wasn’t it?”

            “Yes, it was.”

            A pause.

            “How is your audition song coming along? I’ve called mine _Southern Cross Waltz_ , even though it’s actually in 4/4 time instead of 3/4. Silly, isn’t it?”

            “No, it’s not silly if you think the title fits what you’re trying to say,” Tokiya responds. “I think I’ll title mine _Believe My Voice_ , but I am still working on the lyrics for the second verse.”

            Silence descends on the pair, tempered by the quiet grind of the filtration system and the lapping of the water against the tub’s walls. Tokiya has tensed up again, on his guard against more kindness from Natsuki, though his acting experience helps him keep from showing the wariness on his face. He watches Natsuki from half-closed eyes, but it seems Natsuki is genuinely enjoying his soak and not intent on forcing a conversation. Tokiya allows himself to breathe a little and tries to regain the peace he had been so close to claiming.

            “Tokiya-kun,” Natsuki says, and Tokiya opens his eyes all the way to look at Natsuki. Natsuki still has his head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed, but something about his tone suggests to Tokiya that Natsuki isn’t interested in small talk anymore.

            “I always wondered,” Natsuki continues, “why you tend to be the first one to leave after class, and why you keep us all at arm’s length.” He opens his eyes and turns to look at Tokiya. “Not that I’m criticizing you or being nosy – please don’t think that. It’s just – well, I’ve known Syo-chan for ages, and I can see both of you work really hard when you have a goal you want to meet. Sometimes Syo-chan gets so wrapped up in what he’s trying to accomplish he forgets that there are people around him who care about him and tries to do it all himself. I know how to help Syo-chan get out of his own head – ah, I know I go a bit overboard,” he chuckles, “but he’s just so cute I can’t help it.” He takes a quiet, deep breath, and Tokiya thinks he hears a slight quaver. “The thing is,” Natsuki continues, “I see you doing the same thing he does, but I…well, I want to help, but I don’t know how. You’re not Syo-chan, after all.”

            “No. No, I’m not,” Tokiya agrees. How long has Natsuki been thinking about this? Tokiya knows he hasn’t exactly been hiding his brusque ambivalence, but he is surprised that Natsuki, of all people, has decided to confront him about it. For a split second, he considers telling Natsuki everything – HAYATO, the chance to debut again, the constant worry and self-doubt that plague him at every turn. No, he can’t do that without jeopardizing everything he’s worked for so far. Absentmindedly, he reaches down and starts massaging his arches as he tries to think of the best way to respond to Natsuki’s concern.

            Suddenly, water sloshes towards him as Natsuki moves closer. He places a hand on top of Tokiya’s, gently squeezing the foot he’s massaging. “Maybe you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s ok. But I’m here for you when you need a listening ear. For now, I can at least do this much for you.” He gently slides Tokiya’s hands away and starts massaging his foot for him. Tokiya can only watch in shock, open-mouthed, as Natsuki works his large hands over every joint, every pressure point, finding tender spots Tokiya didn’t even know he possessed and smoothing them away.

            “Sh-Shinomiya-san, really. This is too much.” He tries to pull his foot away, but Natsuki tightens his grip.

            “Please, let me spoil you a little. You take on so much by yourself, you’re so wrapped up in your own head right now, and I can’t stand seeing you like this all the time. I won’t know what you’re thinking about until you’re ready to tell me, but I can at least help your body feel a little better.” A pleading look creeps across Natsuki’s face, and Tokiya can’t deny how good his hands feel wrapped around his foot. Maybe, just for a little while, just for Natsuki, it’s ok to drop his guard a bit.

            “Alright then, if you insist on it,” Tokiya acquiesces, and Natsuki beams from ear to ear. Tokiya leans back against the wall again and stretches his leg so Natsuki has a better angle to work with. _This is really weird, getting a foot massage in a bath, and especially from Natsuki_ , he thinks to himself. _No matter how good it feels, there’s just no way I can relax_. He closes his eyes, tries to focus on the feeling of Natsuki working on his foot, tries to ease his facial muscles so that he can at least give Natsuki the illusion that he’s relaxed. Suddenly, he feels a gentle flick on his forehead and a few water droplets trickling down his nose.

            “Tokiya-kun, don’t pretend. Tell me how this feels, or I might not get it right. I don’t know my own strength sometimes, so I’m relying on you. Ok?”

            “Ah…Ok.” Tokiya nods. As Natsuki works his foot and calf, Tokiya marvels at this deeper look into Natsuki’s personality. Tokiya had chalked up Natsuki’s affection, especially for Syo, as just part of his air-headed charm, but now that he’s on the receiving end of his affection, he’s not quite sure what to make of him anymore. His sensitivity and awareness of others’ needs might run deeper than anyone else realizes.

            Rather than get lost down that rabbit-hole of thought, Tokiya focuses instead on the flex of Natsuki’s biceps as he works. He’s switched legs now, working up Tokiya’s other calf gently but firmly. God, talk about not knowing his own strength! And it’s not just his arms, Tokiya realizes. His chest is firm, and his abs are well-defined but not over-bulky. Did Natsuki ever actually go to the gym? He doesn’t seem the type, and Tokiya can’t recall ever being in the gym at the same time as him. Combined with how tall he is, Natsuki really is easy on the eyes. _He might make a decent model someday, if only he wasn’t so obsessed with Piyo-chan_ , Tokiya muses. _Is this what they call moe – this gap between personality and appearance?_

            He doesn’t realize how intently he’s staring at Natsuki until Natsuki stills suddenly, head down and turned away slightly. “Shinomiya-san? Are you getting tired? I feel much better now, thank you.” Tokiya tries to sit up, but Natsuki doesn’t release his hold on Tokiya’s calf.

            “No, it’s not that. I just…I had another idea of how to help you relax.”

            “Oh?” Tokiya raises an eyebrow. _What could possibly be more relaxing than a massage?_

            Slowly, Natsuki moves his hand over Tokiya’s knee, travelling gradually up his outer thigh. Tokiya’s eyes widen in shock, and he forgets to breathe. As Natsuki leans forward to reach further, looking down, Tokiya sees the blush spreading across Natsuki’s cheeks, half-obscured by his glasses.

            “Shinomiya-san!”

            Natsuki looks up, and Tokiya is hit full force with the power of Natsuki’s allure, at once both fully masculine and fully vulnerable. His amazing physicality combined with his sincere, unbridled affection tugs at Tokiya’s emotions in ways he never thought possible. Just who is this Natsuki in front of him? Just who is this Tokiya, reacting to him? Too late, Tokiya realizes that Natsuki has broken through his lines of defense and wormed his way into his heart, not quite like romantic attraction, more than lustful desire, and there's something else entirely new mixed in there as well, different than anything simple friendship has to offer. He will never be able to ignore Natsuki again for as long as that image of Natsuki looking up at him resides in his memory.

            “Wha-” His voice cracks unexpectedly, and he swallows. “What do you have in mind?”

            The blush on Natsuki’s face deepens. “I…I was thinking I could, um…massage you in a different way.”

            “I see,” Tokiya says. Before he can stop himself, he murmurs, “Please, continue.”

_What the hell did I just say?!_

            Natsuki takes a steadying breath and slowly slides his hand along Tokiya’s outer thigh. He’s using his other hand to balance himself, and he leans on it to scooch himself even closer to Tokiya. Tokiya can only watch in breathless amazement at the scene unfolding before him, barely registering that his own body is Natsuki’s co-star in this drama for two. He’s already got one leg resting on Natsuki’s lap from the earlier massage, and now that Natsuki has shortened the distance, his inner thighs press against one of Natsuki’s legs under the water. Natsuki gets a firm grip on Tokiya’s hips, and the pressure triggers sensitivity Tokiya didn’t even know was possible – at once both ticklish and sensual. Before he realizes it, he’s let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure that reverberates around the dimly lit room.

            “Tokiya-kun, will you sit on my lap?” Natsuki spreads his hands, which are so large that he’s thumbing over Tokiya’s hip bones while simultaneously palming his ass. Tokiya’s head is turning to mush – he’ll do anything Natsuki asks of him now. Those pleading green eyes have him pinned, feeding into his natural people-pleaser inclinations. Without a second thought, he slides over onto Natsuki’s lap, knees drawn up as he finds his balance. He’s not short, but Natsuki’s tall, muscular frame is enough to cradle him, making him feel secure.

            “Here – wrap your legs around my waist and hold onto my shoulders,” Natsuki quietly instructs as he moves away from the wall to make room for Tokiya’s legs. He’s still palming Tokiya’s hips, but now his hands start roaming all over his lower back and sides, drawing out little shivers and moans from Tokiya that no amount of acting experience could replicate. As he adjusts his legs, Tokiya feels himself sliding forward, and suddenly their cocks grind together, punching a gasp out of him and an unintelligible cry from Natsuki. Water splashes up, spattering Natsuki’s glasses, but he doesn’t bother removing them. Instead, he leans in and nips at Tokiya’s neck and collarbones, even as his roaming hands seek purchase on every part of Tokiya that he can reach. His grip is firm but not painful, almost like he really is continuing Tokiya’s massage as he runs his fingers over pressure points along his spine, around his shoulder blades, down his lower back. But this is more intense than any massage Tokiya has ever received in his life, and he finds himself immersed in a dizzying array of sensations.

            Tokiya’s head falls back, drowning in Natsuki’s lips on his neck, his hands on his back. He molds himself onto Natsuki’s chest, pressing himself against Natsuki’s torso but leaning back enough so that Natsuki can still move his head. Tokiya’s fingers find themselves tangled in Natsuki’s wavy golden hair, causing Natsuki to shiver and moan Tokiya’s name even as he presses kisses into his chest.

            “Mmm…Tokiya, you’re so cute,” Natsuki murmurs. “I just want you all to myself.” He chuckles even as he moans into Tokiya’s chest. “Is that selfish?” He nips at Tokiya’s nipple, and Tokiya jolts with shock and pleasure.

            “Just…just for today. You have me all to yourself for as long as we’re here,” he gasps out, head still fuzzy from the aftershock of having his nipple played with. He barely notices that Natsuki has dropped the usual honorific from his name.

            Natsuki hums in response, and he moves to swirl his tongue over Tokiya’s other nipple, drawing a moan out of him as he tightens his grip in Natsuki’s hair. Tokiya can’t tell if that was the right answer to give, but it’s the first truly honest thing he’s ever said to anyone since coming to the academy. Briefly, he hopes Natsuki can accept the sincerity of his answer, if not the meaning.

            And then all efforts at maintaining coherent thought evaporate as Natsuki reaches between them and wraps one large, strong hand over both of their cocks. Tokiya falls forward, muffling his cries in Natsuki’s shoulder as Natsuki strokes them together. His other hand still grips Tokiya’s hip, triggering more little jolts of that ticklish pleasure that Tokiya has come to savour. Never in a thousand years has Tokiya imagined that he’d be doing this kind of thing with anyone, and certainly not Natsuki, but now he can’t imagine being anywhere else at this moment. The water eases the drag of Natsuki’s hand on the tender, sensitive skin of his cock, and he can feel Natsuki’s cock twitching against his own. He rolls his hips in time with Natsuki’s strokes, fingers clenching and unclenching in his hair. As carefully as he could, avoiding Natsuki’s glasses, he shifts his head and nibbles at Natsuki’s ear, swirling his tongue around his earlobe.

            “Augh, Toki- that’s…oh, do that again!” Natsuki whimpers even as he aggressively maintains his rhythmic stroking.

            Tokiya obliges, and Natsuki melts. Tokiya starts exploring Natsuki’s neck with his teeth and lips, looking for Natsuki’s sweet spots even as he’s being driven to the height of arousal by Natsuki’s thrusts. He can’t help rolling his hips, and Natsuki’s moans in his ear when he finds a new trigger only serve to feed into his need.

            “Shino- Natsuki, you’re amazing,” Tokiya gasps, testing the use of Natsuki’s first name since Natsuki already dropped the honorific from his. “Really, what you’re doing to me…mmm. It’s so much. I’ve never-” Words fail him, and he falls back to attacking Natsuki’s ear with his teeth and tongue.

            Natsuki’s grip on their cocks falters and his rhythm hiccups. “Oh Tokiya, say it again, please. Say my name again.” His voice breaks, like he’s on the verge of tears. Tokiya can’t tell for sure because of the water splashing around them, but he doesn’t care. If he can give Natsuki something in return for all the care he’s lavishing on him, he’ll do it without another thought.

            “Natsuki. Natsuki, God, you’re amazing, don’t stop,” Tokiya murmurs into Natsuki’s ear, and Natsuki groans in response, feeling his need, which in turn feeds into Tokiya’s lust. He keeps whispering Natsuki’s name, spurred on by Natsuki’s reactions, until they’re both shaking and making inarticulate sounds of need. Suddenly, Tokiya grips Natsuki’s shoulder hard, and it’s the only warning he’s able to give before he comes, spurting into the bathwater. A second later, Natsuki’s seed swirls with his. A few more strokes, and it’s over. Natsuki slumps back, exhausted, and Tokiya collapses gently on top of him, mindful of just how hard the wall is behind them. They’re both breathing heavily, and Tokiya can feel Natsuki’s heart pounding in his chest.

            After a moment, Natsuki swishes his hand slowly in the water, rinsing the come off, then rests both hands gently on Tokiya’s hips. Eventually, the water will cycle through the filtration system, and the tub will be as clean as if nothing had ever happened. The thought brings a pang of some undefinable feeling to Tokiya’s chest. Regret, perhaps? A sense of loss? He’s going to need some time to sort out these new feelings. But first…

            “Shinomiya-san, thank you.” He lifts himself up off Natsuki’s chest, laying a gentle hand on his cheek. Again, he’s captured by those green eyes, eyes that measure, test, and observe him, but never judge. Perhaps not today, but one day soon, when he’s accomplished his goals, he will have the confidence to be the best version of himself once again. For now, he will take the tiny seed of encouragement Natsuki has given him and nurture it until he can better reciprocate the pure-hearted affection Natsuki bestows on everyone he meets.

            He carefully slides off Natsuki’s lap, and Natsuki’s hands fall to his sides. He’s still watching Tokiya, perhaps hoping he will start talking about what’s on his mind, but Tokiya just rests against the wall, eyes closed and silent.

            Suddenly, Natsuki stands and stretches, carefully stepping over the wall and reaching for his towel. Tokiya thinks he’s left and is startled when Natsuki drapes his arms over Tokiya’s shoulders from behind.

            “Tokiya-kun, I just want you to know that no matter what, I consider you my friend. I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” He squeezes lightly. “Always.” He stands and heads for the door. A moment later, Tokiya can hear a shower running – Natsuki must be rinsing off before heading back to his room.

            “I consider you my friend as well, Shinomiya-san,” Tokiya murmurs to himself, and it sounds hollow in the empty room. For the first time, he wishes he could give more of himself to Natsuki, to the other guys in that cluster of acquaintances that have gathered around him. Are they his friends? He’s not sure, but he thinks he wants them to be. He knows that once he leaves the shower room, he will revert to his harsh, distant demeanor. He will continue being exasperated by Otoya’s childish antics, will roll his eyes at Ren’s flirtations, will pass by Masato and Syo with hardly a word. But…Natsuki has given him hope that perhaps, given time, he will learn to be himself once again, whatever that means, and that there will be five people waiting for him with open arms, ready to accept him for who he is.

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh...too touchy-feely for my tastes, but it was still fun to write. Look for the next chapter June 1.


	3. Ren X Otoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otoya sprains his ankle playing soccer with the orphanage kids. Ren ends up helping him take showers all week, leaving Otoya with some unexpected feelings of regret when the week is over.

Otoya arriving at the academy in a sedan is mildly unusual, given that he usually jogs back after playing soccer with the kids at the orphanage. Otoya gingerly stepping out of that sedan, holding one foot off the ground, however, is nothing short of a catastrophe.

      Tokiya and Ren are the first to see Otoya’s predicament as they pass the academy’s front gates during their afternoon run. Honestly, Otoya had been hoping he could just sneak back into the dorm to avoid causing an uproar – for one thing, he’s realized that somehow, he’s become everyone’s little brother, and while he doesn’t mind soaking up the extra attention, he would rather not cause unnecessary worry. For another thing, he really, _really_ , REALLY wants to avoid the lecture he’s bound to receive from Tokiya about being careless. But now, of all people, Tokiya and Ren are here, watching him struggle out of the car while being supported by a smallish, motherly-looking woman who really should not be helping someone of Otoya’s size and weight to stand.

      “Otoya,” Tokiya chides. “What have you done to yourself this time?”

      “Now now, Icchi,” Ren soothes. “Let’s relieve this dear lady of her burden first-” and flashes a dazzling smile at the woman, causing her to blush and Otoya to smile. Somehow Ren always manages to walk that fine line between flirtatious and gentlemanly, and Otoya can’t help but admire his ability to read a situation and adjust his behaviour accordingly. Otoya knows he has almost no tact and can be overly enthusiastic and impulsive at times. While he has no desire to match Ren’s flirting skills, he wouldn’t mind emulating Ren’s other people skills. But trying to ignore the throbbing pain of a sprained ankle while plastering a smile on one’s face is not the time to be thinking about improving one’s people skills.

      Ren and Tokiya move to either side of Otoya and help him stand, being careful not to jostle his injured foot, but Otoya can’t help wincing a little anyways. It _hurts_ , after all.

      “Really, you guys, I’m fine-” he tries to laugh it off and not lean on the others too much, but his foot really is throbbing, and he ends up shifting most of his weight onto Ren, who is taller and has a better grip around his waist. His presence is reassuring to Otoya, warm and solid, if a bit sweaty from his earlier jog. He may be an outrageous flirt who doesn’t seem to take anything seriously, but his quirks are a welcome contrast to Tokiya, who can’t seem to spare the time of day for anyone and takes everything way too seriously. But as he leans on Ren and watches Tokiya politely question the woman about the details of Otoya’s injuries, he can’t help but think he’s being a little unfair to Tokiya. _If he really didn’t care_ , Otoya muses, _he wouldn’t take the time to lecture me so much, I guess, since he doesn’t seem to do that for anyone else_. Suddenly his train of thought is derailed by a gentle poke at his forehead and a bemused Ren staring at him intently.

      “Really Ikki, if you keep frowning like that, you’ll spoil your good looks. Let’s get you back to the dorm, ok? Icchi’s got the gist of what happened now, so I’d like to put you somewhere safe before I sprain my own ankle holding you up.” He’s trying to look serious, but Otoya can see the corners of his eyes crinkling with a suppressed smile and he knows he’s safe from getting one more scolding that day.

      They deposit Otoya on his bed in the room he and Tokiya share, and Ren wanders off somewhere claiming he has something important to do while Tokiya changes into designer jeans and a t-shirt.

      “Tooookiiiiyaaaa…I’m gonna be soooooo booooooooored!” he whines. “We just got here, but I already can’t sit still anymore!” He fidgets and looks up at Tokiya with puppy eyes.

      “Well, you’re just going to have to get used to it for the next week or so.” Tokiya glances at the clock on his desk and shrugs into a blazer hanging on the back of his chair.

      “No way – you have work now?” Otoya asks.

      “Yes,” Tokiya responds.

      “You can’t! I – er…I mean…” Otoya stammers a little, having second thoughts about his request. “Well, I worked up a sweat playing with the kids, and thought you could help me shower. I didn’t know you had work this weekend. Don’t you want to shower after your workout?”

      “I’ll shower at work. I haven’t got time for one now.” He stops, considering, then pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts typing. Otoya watches, curious and a little embarrassed. Not at the prospect of showering with another person – growing up in an orphanage long ago redefined his notion of personal space – but that he actually had the gall to ask Tokiya for help with something not related to classes, only to be rebuffed. He can’t tell if Tokiya’s mad or annoyed or just being his usual serious self, when Tokiya’s phone chimes and his face seems to relax a little.

      “You’re in luck, Otoya,” he says, reaching for his wallet and dorm key. “I found you a playmate, but please, don’t do anything too reckless. Remember, you will somehow need to make up for lost dance practice time, and your acting class is going to be tough too. Use your head for once and be careful. I’ve got to head out now, or I’ll be late.”

      “Who’s coming? When will you get back?” Otoya asks, but Tokiya is gone so fast Otoya’s questions end up bouncing off the closed door. He flops back on the bed, wincing as the movement jiggles his injured foot. He throws one arm over his face and sighs. _Ugh…this sucks_. He’s not feeling sorry for himself, exactly – well, maybe just a little – but more than that, he’s impatient with this sudden turn of events compelling him to be unnaturally sedentary. There’s homework he should be doing, and he could always practice his lines for his acting class, if not all the movements. Maybe he could borrow a hand mirror from someone and practice arranging his face to look more like Ren when he’s being charming and suave. _Yeah right_ , he rolls his eyes to himself, snickering at the mental image of himself trying to act like Ren. It’s way too far out of his league.

      Suddenly, he hears the doorknob rattle, and he sits up quickly. _Did Tokiya forget something?_

      “I’m coming in,” Ren announces, and Otoya feels both pleased and relieved. Leave it to Tokiya to find just the right person to keep him company while still getting himself off to work on time.

      “Ren! I’m so glad you’re here. I was getting so bored just sitting around, and Tokiya’s already gone – not that he would have been much company anyway. He’s always so busy, and it seems like I’m always in the way or disturbing him somehow.” Where all this verbal vomit is coming from, Otoya has no idea. Maybe it’s the pain speaking. He knows he’s being childish and unfair, and it must have shown on his face, because Ren steps closer and ruffles his hair. Otoya leans into his touch.

      “Icchi’s moods are one of the greatest mysteries in the known universe, Ikki,” he says with false gravity, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Far be it from either of us to understand what goes on in that brain of his. But, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for his text earlier, so…” He straightens, removes his hand from Otoya’s hair. “Well, not entirely true. I went looking for something as a surprise for you, but Icchi’s text means I get to show you sooner than I planned.”

      Otoya’s eyes light up. “A surprise? Does that mean we’re leaving the room?”

      Ren laughs, easy and warm. “Yes, yes, we’re leaving. By the way, where do you keep your towel and shower supplies?”

      “Huh?” Otoya looks puzzled. “Well, my soap and shampoo are, uh, under my bed-” Ren raises an eyebrow “-and my towel is the red one hanging on the door.” As Ren gathers his things for him, Otoya notices that Ren has an orange drawstring sneaker bag slung over one shoulder. “Are you going to help me shower, Ren?”

      “I am – or would you rather wait for Icchi?” Ren’s tone is teasing, as usual, but this time Otoya can’t tell if Ren’s eyes are crinkling at the corners the way they usually do when he’s pretending to be serious.

      “No no, I’m really glad you’re gonna help. To be honest, my foot’s really killing me, but I didn’t want anyone to worry too much so I didn’t know who to ask except for Tokiya. Anyway,” Otoya rambles on, attempting to redirect the conversation, “what is this surprise you’ve got going on? The sooner we shower, the sooner I get to see what it is, right?”

      “Right,” Ren grins. He drapes the red towel over Otoya’s shoulders and stuffs Otoya’s shower stuff in his bag. It’s tight, but everything fits. He wraps an arm around Otoya’s waist and hauls him up off the bed. Otoya slings an arm over Ren’s shoulders, and together they make their way to the showers. It’s slow progress, not only because of Otoya’s impediment but also because along the way they have to stop and explain away everyone’s concerns. Syo invites him over to watch reruns of _Prince of Fighting_ if he gets bored, and Masato promises to drop by with some mentholated muscle rub to help ease the swelling. Natsuki offers to lend him his favourite Piyo-chan gel-filled icepack. Ren fields everyone’s concerns with ease, never showing signs of irritation or exhaustion (though goading Masato is par for the course), and Otoya tells himself he’s going to have to thank Ren properly once he gets the chance.

      Finally, they arrive at the shower room. Otoya balances on Ren to undress, then leans against the shelf holding the baskets for personal belongings while Ren strips and drapes both towels over Otoya’s shoulders.

      “Ikki, close your eyes.”

      “What?”

      Ren chuckles. “That surprise I mentioned? It’s in here. Go on, close ‘em. I won’t let you slip.”

      “Ren! What kind of surprise do you put in a shower room?” Otoya laughs, closing his eyes and gripping Ren tightly, noting briefly how smooth Ren’s skin feels against his calloused palm, how firm his muscles flex under his grip. They walk carefully across the room, Ren supporting him every step of the way like a solid wall.

      “Ok, you can open your eyes now.”

      Otoya slowly opens his eyes, savouring the moment. He’s not sure what to expect, but the sight that greets him is definitely not what he would have imagined coming from Ren.

      Along the wall of regular shower heads, one has been replaced with a detachable shower head on a hose. Underneath sits an onsen stool, with a smaller plastic stepstool nearby, presumably for Otoya to rest his injured foot on to keep the pressure off it.

      “Ren, this is…how did you – was this shower always like this? When did you do all this? And where the heck did you find an onsen stool?” Otoya gawks open-mouthed at the new arrangement while Ren grins, clearly enjoying his reaction. _He did all this for me? Why? What did I do to deserve this kind of kindness from Ren?_ Questions swirl around in Otoya’s head as he processes the effort Ren has put into making sure he’s safe and comfortable while he showers.

      “I had a word with the academy’s facilities management people, and I made a few calls.” Ren carefully guides Otoya to the stool and sets him down. He takes the towels from Otoya’s shoulders and hangs them on the hooks on the wall opposite of the showers. Returning, he reaches up and detaches the shower head for Otoya, passing it to him.

      “Can you reach the faucets from there, Ikki?” he asks.

      “Hmm, I think so.” Angling himself so that his foot and its stool are not perpendicular to the wall in front of him, he stretches up and turns the hot water on, then the cold. He flashes Ren a grin. “Yep, all good.”

      “Great.” Ren empties his sneaker bag of toiletries and passes Otoya’s belongings to him. “Take your time. Let me know if you need help with anything, ok?”

      “Got it.”

V_@_ ~~~~ _@_V

      The week goes by in a flash. Otoya hobbles around with a crutch, though since the sprain isn’t severe it’s not long before he starts accidentally leaving it behind in the classroom or the practice room, only to be reminded by a twinge of pain after a half-dozen steps. His classmates and his S class friends all pitch in to help him where they can. Since Tokiya has work every evening this week and using a crutch on slick tile floors is a terrible idea, Ren becomes Otoya’s official shower buddy. Otoya finds himself looking forward to each evening with anticipation.

      And then, late Sunday morning, Otoya reluctantly drags himself out of bed, driven more by hunger than by wakefulness, and realizes that he doesn’t feel any pain anymore. Sitting back down on the edge of his bed, he tests more carefully. First, he slowly rotates his ankle in a few easy circles. Nothing. Bends his toes back and forth. Still nothing. Standing slower this time, he walks the length of the room in measured, unhurried steps. Ah, a little discomfort, but as long as he doesn’t play soccer or participate in dance practice this week, he’s good to go.

      He looks over at the still-sleeping Tokiya. _He got in late again last night, I guess_ , Otoya thinks. _Better not wake him. I’ll tell him later, but he’ll probably give me another lecture about being careful until I’m totally better_. Slipping on some jeans and a t-shirt, he heads off for breakfast. This time he leaves his crutch behind on purpose.

      Breakfast in the cafeteria with the guys turns into a celebration, with congratulations on Otoya’s recovery coming in from all sides. Syo punches him in the shoulder, laughing, while Natsuki freaks out over Syo’s violent display of affection. Masato quietly expresses his relief over Otoya’s recovery and offers to help him catch up on the new dance moves when he’s ready. Laughter, joking, rough-housing – this is Otoya’s normal.

      “Ikki. Glad to see you could make it to the cafeteria under your own power today.” Ren saunters in, followed by a sleepy-looking Tokiya. Ren is smiling, with that ever-present teasing lilt in his voice, but…something’s off about him. Otoya doesn’t get much of a chance to think about it though, because the anticipated lecture from Tokiya finally shows itself, and the table descends into more teasing, joking, and laughter.

      Eventually, Otoya gets up to empty his cafeteria tray and add it to the stack on the counter. Ren follows.

      “Ren?” Otoya is a little puzzled.

      “I just wanted to check on you. For this evening. Uh…” Suddenly, Ren looks uncharacteristically flustered as he nervously scratches the back of his head. “I guess you don’t really need my help any more, do you?”

      Ren’s got a smile on his face, trying to keep it casual, but his eyes aren’t crinkling at the corners, which sends a pang through Otoya’s heart. _Right, we don’t need to shower together anymore…_ Suddenly, Otoya realizes he’s regretting the loss of Ren’s help, and if he doesn’t ask now, he will never have another excuse to need it.

      “I could use your help one more time, actually. If you don’t mind,” he laughs quietly, nervously, expecting to be brushed off like how Tokiya seemed to reject his request for help last week. “Those floors are pretty slippery, after all.”

      “Ikki,” Ren smiles a real smile this time, relieved. “Nothing would make me happier than to help you again.”

      The day is filled with homework, laundry, and practice, but Otoya wrestles with conflicting emotions. There’s the usual anticipation he’s felt all week about showering with Ren, but it’s tempered by the knowledge that it will be the last time. By mid-afternoon, he’s a wreck.

      That evening, Ren fetches him from his room, but doesn’t hold him up. Doesn’t touch him at all, in fact, which is weird because Ren is naturally handsy. There’s this odd tension between the two of them, and Otoya can’t make heads or tails of it. Silently, they enter the shower room and undress. Instinctively, Otoya reaches out for Ren’s shoulder for balance, and Ren lets him. When they walk into where the showers are, Ren hovers, watching for a possible slip. After they hang their towels, Otoya moves to the stool and sits down. He doesn’t need the other one for his foot now, but he realizes what he needs more than anything is Ren’s touch. His mind flashes back to Ren’s expression from the cafeteria this morning, and if he’s guessing right, Ren wants nothing more than to touch him back.

      Ah, now he’s got an idea that will fix everything.

      “Uh, Ren…this time, um,” he stammers, looking down, “will you wash my hair for me? I just realized, this whole time, you’ve never got to do that, and, um…I’d really like you to…” He trails off, thinking he’s said too much, that he’s asked for too much, that maybe this was a bad idea after all. Then he feels long, slender fingers in his hair, still dry, ruffling it slightly.

      “Of course, Ikki,” Ren breathes. “I thought you’d never ask.”

      Otoya’s heart is pounding in his chest. He didn’t think that would _actually_ work. Ren reaches around, takes the shower head, and fiddles with the faucets, trying to get the temperature just right. Otoya just watches, confused. Since when did Ren wait for permission to do anything? Is this what Ren being serious looks like? It’s too weird, because to the best of Otoya’s knowledge, Ren’s never been serious about anything or anyone. Yep, definitely weird, but also strangely touching. It’s Ren looking out for him the best way he knows how, trying to be a big brother. Despite being the youngest in his own family, Ren is one of the oldest in their friend group, so the pressure of being looked up to must be exhausting for him sometimes. Otoya can relate only too well, growing up with pseudo-siblings that came and went, many of which were younger than him.

      The water suddenly rushing over his ears halts his train of thought, and he soaks up the heat of the water and the touch of Ren’s fingers as though he were starved for them. After thoroughly soaking his head, Ren lays the shower head on the floor and picks up Otoya’s shampoo. Gently, he massages the shampoo into his scalp, sending tingles down Otoya’s spine. His eyes are closed, partly to keep the soap out, but also because it just feels so _damn good_. Without thinking, he rests his head against Ren’s thigh.

      Ren stops massaging his head, tensing slightly. “Ikki? All right?”

      “Mmm, yeah…woah, sorry!” Otoya bolts forward, shocked at his own behaviour. “That was really weird, I’m sorry. It was just so relaxing.” Otoya’s face is beet-red from embarrassment.

      “No…it’s fine. Go ahead.” Ren gently guides Otoya’s head closer and resumes massaging Otoya’s scalp, allowing him to decide if he wants to lean back again, which he does.

      After a minute, Ren picks up the shower head again. Placing a finger under Otoya’s chin, he tips his head back to avoid giving Otoya a face full of shampoo as he rinses. Stepping back, Ren places the shower head on the floor again, angling the spray away from Otoya. Otoya thinks he’s done with the hairwashing and has moved to another shower nearby. _Ok, now’s my chance_ , he thinks. _I’ve got to thank him for everything before it’s too late_. He spins around on the stool, eager to seize his opportunity.

      And comes face-to-face with Ren’s crotch.

      “Uh…”

       Ren’s looking down at him, wide-eyed. Turns out he was just fetching conditioner, but Otoya’s not thinking about hairwashing or saying thank-you anymore. Otoya’s brain short-circuits, suddenly consumed with wanting to return the touch Ren has bestowed on him all week. Without a second thought, he reaches up and cups Ren’s balls, rolling them gently in his palm.

      The bottle of conditioner clatters to the floor. Otoya looks up to see Ren biting the knuckle of his first finger, his expression unreadable.

      Otoya thumbs along Ren’s length, fascinated as it twitches and grows under his attention. Technically, both he and Ren are redheads, but Ren’s lighter shade means his pubic hair is closer to blond than red. Up close though, Otoya can see that despite its light colour, it still bears Ren’s characteristic orange tinge.

      “Ikki…what are you…?”

      “You’ve been taking care of me so much this week. I was just gonna say thanks before you started showering, but then…” he trails off, mesmerised. _His skin’s so soft here too_ , he thinks, remembering all the times this week he’s gripped Ren for balance, has leaned against him while undressing. The skinship between them has never been awkward, and Otoya surprises himself with the revelation that this, too, did not seem nearly as awkward to him as it should have.

_Oh wait, Ren might not actually be ok with this…_

      “Ren, is it…is it ok if I keep touching you?” he asks, looking up warily.

      “Oh, Ikki, I don’t know what I would do if you stopped,” Ren breathes, and it’s Otoya’s turn to be shocked. Slowly, he lifts his other hand and gently scratches through Ren’s pubic hair, watching for Ren’s reaction, trying to figure out how best to please him. As he fondles him, Otoya is quick to discover that he really doesn’t need to overthink this – Ren’s soaking up his touch like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

_It’s not enough, I need to do more. What more can I give him?_

      By now, Ren’s cock is stiffening, hot and heavy in his hands, and Ren’s back to biting his knuckle, holding back the moans threatening to escape as Otoya’s rough hands travel up and down his length, pass over his balls, comb through his hair. Otoya wants to touch him more, touch him all over, but doesn’t want to stop paying attention to Ren’s cock. The tiniest bubble of an idea is forming in his head, growing with every stroke he passes over Ren, until it pops and quickly, before he can overthink it, he stuffs as much of Ren’s cock in his mouth as he can handle, trying not to bite down as the head hits the back of his throat.

      “Augh, Ikki!”

      This time, there’s no holding back Ren’s punched-out groan of surprise, and Otoya can feel himself react to Ren’s cries, his own cock stiffening rapidly. His hands grasp Ren’s thighs as he steadies himself on the stool, and the enormity of what he’s just done hits him like a ton of bricks. It’s not like he’s ever done this before, and where the idea even came from, Otoya hasn’t the foggiest notion. It just seemed like a good one, in the moment. Lost, his hands still, and he tries to swallow the drool threatening to escape from the corners of his mouth.

      Slowly, Ren’s fingers weave through the tendrils of Otoya’s damp hair, brushing them away from his face.

      “Ikki…Otoya, are you sure you want to do this?” Ren asks, hesitant. With gentle pressure, he pulls Otoya’s head back just enough to see his face, but Otoya doesn’t release his hold on Ren’s cock.

      “Hmm…” Otoya nods. If he lets Ren out of his mouth, he might think he’s changed his mind. He doesn’t want that, but he’s still not exactly sure how to proceed. He glances up at Ren, trying to figure out what to do next.

      “If you’re sure…ok. I’ll help you. Tap my leg if it’s too much.” Ren holds his head still, then slowly leans in, pushing himself down Otoya’s throat. It’s a consistent pressure, but not forceful, giving Otoya time to adjust. He repositions his tongue, and the movement draws another moan out of Ren. Surprised, Otoya moves his tongue again, this time going up and over the head of his cock. The fingers in his hair grip tighter, and Ren performs another slow thrust, letting out a low, shuddery breath.

      “Mmm, just like that, Ikki. You’re doing great,” Ren murmurs, and Otoya’s heart swells. Finally, _finally_ , he’s able to give something back to Ren. As Ren pulls back, Otoya sucks on him, humming, signalling that he wants Ren to go deeper, and bobs his own head forward to meet his next thrust. His nose gets buried in Ren’s hair, and he inhales, relishing his scent. How he’s swallowing Ren so readily he has no idea, but he’s relieved he’s not gagging. As Ren thrusts, Otoya’s hands travel up and down his thighs, squeezing his ass, occasionally flicking his balls just to make him squirm. Ren’s fingers flex through Otoya’s hair, and his sultry-timbred moaning, calling his name, reverberates around the empty shower room, intoxicating Otoya with desire. Before he realizes it, Ren’s thrusting has gotten faster, harder, and Otoya’s jaw and tongue work to keep up. He’s so big, so hot, it’s almost too much, and he can feel his eyes tearing up with the pressure in his mouth. He can feel Ren’s thrusts all the way down into his groin, and he rocks on the stool in time with the thrusts, feeling his own need rising like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him in his own lust. _No, focus. This is about Ren. Gotta focus on Ren._ Nevertheless, one hand slips off Ren’s thigh, and he starts working his own cock in time with Ren’s thrusts.

      “Ikki, if you keep going…” Ren pants, desperate. Otoya just hums in response, absorbed in the sensations of Ren’s cock gliding on his tongue, on Ren’s death grip in his hair, on his own grip on his throbbing cock. Suddenly, Ren’s grip goes even tighter and he pulls out a split second before creaming Otoya’s face and hair, letting out a strangled cry. The shock sends Otoya into his own orgasm, and he comes, shaking, spattering all over the stool and on Ren’s feet as their voices mingle, echoing throughout the room.

      Slowly, Ren sinks to his knees on the hard tile floor, relaxing his grip in Otoya’s hair. Otoya leans forward, eyes closed, resting his head on Ren’s shoulder. They’re both breathing heavily, and Otoya’s head is too fuzzy with post-orgasm haze to fully process what just happened.

      Ren’s hands slide down from Otoya’s head, and he wraps his arms around him in a gentle, firm hug.

      “Ikki.”

      “Hmm?”

      “Don’t fall asleep on me, eh? I’m not much better off than you right now, and Icchi will have my head if I let you fall, now that you’re nearly better.”

 _What does Tokiya have anything to do with it?_ Otoya thinks drowsily, but he can tell from Ren’s tone that his eyes must be crinkling at the corners. He feels Ren’s shoulder flex as he reaches for the still-running shower head on the floor. It’s still warm – the dorm’s hot water tanks are massive, it seems – and he feels the water cascade over his head once again as Ren rinses the come out of his hair. His jaw aches, his scalp tingles, and his throat feels a little raspy.

      Otoya wishes this moment in the showers with Ren could last forever. He knows it won’t – it can’t. But he’s thankful that he got a glimpse of Ren’s serious side. He’s thankful for Tokiya’s seriousness too, in a way. Between these two extremes on the sliding scale of seriousness, Otoya knows he’s got two inexperienced but well-intentioned big brothers looking out for him, giving him the confidence to be himself, knowing that at least one of them will always have his back.

      He only hopes that when the time comes, he can do the same for them.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...so, not the rarest of rare pairs, but somewhat less common than others. Also, Tokiya kept trying to steal this chapter away and put himself in the spotlight for some reason - I'm not obsessed with him and Otoya as a pair, but I had to rewrite the crap out of this thing so many times just to make Tokiya leave. Clearly, he's not ready to let anyone else have a piece of his darling ray of sunshine. =P
> 
> He's in the next chapter though, so look forward to a new installment on June 16.


	4. Tokiya X Syo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syo is tired of Tokiya’s highhanded superiority complex. He goes for a shower to calm down and ends up confronting Tokiya in the shower room instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief language note: Tokiya habitually uses the more formal personal pronoun 'watashi', in contrast with all the other members of STARISH (with the exception of Cecil), who use the more informal personal pronouns 'boku' and 'ore'. Even when he's singing, I cannot recall Tokiya using informal personal pronouns except when singing group songs, but feel free to leave comments verifying Tokiya's personal pronoun use. In any case, references to these personal pronouns occur in this chapter, so I thought I'd make sure to clarify what they mean.
> 
> Tiny update July 30/18: I just realized that Tokiya refers to his "older brother" as Ani, not Nii-san. This has been changed, but the rest of the story is still the same. Ah, the power of editing after publishing...so fulfilling.

            “I’m telling you, Natsuki, I’ve had it up to _here_ with that guy!”

            Syo flings the door open to the room he and Natsuki share and storms over to his bed, throwing himself down on it. Natsuki enters the room a few paces behind, dodging the hat Syo tosses at his hat rack. It misses, and Syo lets out an irritated _tch_. Natsuki picks up the hat and hangs it properly.

            “Calm down, Syo-chan. I’m sure Tokiya-kun was only being helpful.”

            “Helpful, my ass! That guy is a pretentious asshole with nothing better to do than look down his nose at everyone. I mean, seriously – he thinks he’s better than his own _brother_ , who’s already debuted as a successful idol. We’re all like cockroaches to him!” Syo sits up and starts mashing his pillow in his lap, just to give his hands something to do.

            Natsuki sighs. “Whatever Tokiya-kun does or says, I’m sure he’s got a reason. If nothing else, he’s not the reckless, thoughtless type. Er, well, maaaaybe a touch tactless, but…”

            “Whatever,” Syo grumps, hugging his pillow. Talking to Natsuki is pointless, because Natsuki is a bottomless pit of compassion and always looks for a person’s good points. Right now, Syo is not interested in Tokiya’s good points. Syo is determined to remain pissed at Tokiya, and all Natsuki’s pleading will not make him budge.

            That said, it’s really hard to focus on homework when one insists on being pissed.

            “I’m gonna go shower, cool my head a little.” Syo chucks his pillow back in place and rolls his eyes at Natsuki’s brightening expression. “Don’t get the wrong idea – I’m not done being mad at that idiot. I just have better things to do right now.”

            He gathers his shower stuff and rolls them, along with a clean change of clothes, in his towel, making sure he hasn’t forgotten anything.

            “I’ll be back in fifteen.”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            “What the HELL are you doing here?”

            Syo instinctively pitches his loofa at the object of his bad mood, hitting him squarely in the back of his head.

            Tokiya turns partway to look at Syo, totally unfazed by the impact, but sighs a little in exasperation. “Kurusu. Whatever is prompting your behaviour, please desist. It’s unbecoming.”

            “Unbecoming?!” Syo sputters. “Don't talk to me about unbecoming! You know what _is_ becoming? YOU, becoming a pain in the ass!”

            Tokiya blinks. “That…doesn’t even make sense.” He turns away, facing into the shower once again. “Come talk to me again when you can string sensible sentences together. I don’t have the time or energy to keep up with your unique approach to the Japanese language.”

            Syo plunks his bottles down, strides across the room, and grabs Tokiya’s shoulder, spinning him around and shoving him against the wall. Glaring up at him, he relishes the look of pain that flashes across Tokiya’s face, satisfied that he’s finally done something to put a crack in that perfect façade. Judging by his position, Syo thinks his back must be jammed up against the faucets. All the better.

            “No, Tokiya. You do NOT get to talk to me like that. I’m sick of your high and mighty attitude, whether it’s in the classroom or during our down time. The rest of us are busting our asses trying to make a name for ourselves, trying to earn the chance to debut at the end of all this, while you just look down on us and think nothing of how hard we’re working. It’s about time you got off your high horse before someone pulls you off.” Syo shoves Tokiya’s shoulder one more time for emphasis, then releases the pressure with a scowl. He looks around for his loofa. Ah, there it is, off in a corner where it skittered after dealing its deathly blow to Tokiya’s head. Syo bends over and picks it up. Showering with Tokiya in the room defeats his whole reason for being here, but since he’s gotten wet from Tokiya’s running shower, he might as well take one.

            Suddenly, Syo’s head is yanked back, and sharp pain tears through his scalp. Tokiya’s fingers are strangling a fistful of Syo’s hair in a death grip, and he’s twisting Syo’s head around at an awkward angle, forcing him to look up at Tokiya while keeping him off-balance. The loofa falls to the floor.

            “Do you think this is easy for me, Kurusu?” Tokiya’s face is mere inches from Syo’s nose, and his wet hair drips on Syo’s face. His voice is low and steady, but Syo notices that there's a threatening undertone lurking there, and he’s switched from using _watashi_ to using _ore_ instead, betraying just how much he’s losing his composure. “You assume too much and think too little.” He tugs harder, and Syo squirms in discomfort. This confrontation is _not_ going the way he had imagined.

            Tokiya continues. “If I seem high and mighty, as you put it, it is because I spend every waking moment preparing myself for the opportunity to debut, plus I have a job that fills all my free time. Despite that, I have a firm grasp on my emotions, and I put my work as an idol and as a professional ahead of my personal inclinations. Unlike you, who thinks nothing of whining about how hard idol work is.”

            Syo has never seen Tokiya’s eyes this close up before. Where they had always looked so cold and distant before, Syo feels himself getting swallowed up in the smoldering anger lurking in their depths. Tokiya has been a pain in the ass since day one, but he’s never been _scary_. Until now. He can’t keep the fear from creeping across his face, and he knows he’s as good as given Tokiya the victory in this battle. He’s at too much of a disadvantage here.

            Ren once told him that anything can happen in a shower room. If Syo hadn’t believed him before, he sure believes him now.

            “You know, even if you don’t get to debut through Saotome Academy, you can still become an idol, but you’ll have to put up with all kinds of shit before getting to do the work you really want.” Tokiya straightens, loosens his grip in Syo’s hair a little, then resituates his hold. “My brother told me. Shall I tell you about the kinds of work he’s had to do?”

            Syo swallows. He’s not sure he wants to hear about this. Tokiya’s like a totally different person right now, and he can’t tell if Tokiya’s just trying to intimidate him, putting what he’s learned in his acting classes to work, or if he’s letting Syo catch a glimpse of who he really is. Either way, it’s a version of Tokiya he’d rather not deal with right now, or ever.

            “Ani debuted as an actor, but he didn’t make it big right away. He had to do all kinds of small-time piece-meal type work, just to get noticed.” Tokiya’s grip relaxes again, and his hand slides down Syo’s head so that he thumbs over Syo’s cheek bone, making him shiver. “He has a pretty face, and a decent build. Ah, and his voice is so sweet. Like warm honey.” He brushes his thumb over Syo’s cheek again. “They got him to whisper all kinds of sweet nothings to all kinds of people with that honeyed voice. And more.” His eyes narrow. “Since he and I are twins, why don’t I show you what kind of work they made Ani do, hmm?” His fingers flex in Syo’s hair again, and the implication of Tokiya’s story hits him full force.

            “A-ah, no, that’s fine. I-I get it, really. No need to go into details, heh heh.” He squirms, trying to reposition his feet so that he has leverage to move without slipping on the wet tile floor.

            Tokiya’s free arm slithers around Syo’s waist, adjusting his body to line up with his own and pulling him uncomfortably close, their cocks grinding together. “No, no. I insist, since I’m so high and mighty, after all.” He leans over Syo again, this time so his breath tickles Syo’s ear. “You know, the entertainment industry has quite the obsession with boys’ love, and it doesn’t just stop at drama CDs and anime.”

            _Oh God_ , Syo’s panicking now. _Don’t tell me Tokiya’s actually gonna…_

            Suddenly, Tokiya straightens, letting out a soft sound of disgust. “You should see the look on your face right now, Kurusu. Who’s the high and mighty one now, picking a useless fight only to back down when it gets to be too much to handle?” He looks away, ready to turn back to his shower. “And after writing that song – what did you call it? – ‘Ore-sama Rondo’? You’re so full of it. Just give it up already.”

            Anger flares in the pit of Syo’s stomach. How dare Tokiya toy with him like that! “Tokiya, you bastard! I never back down from anything!” Wrenching his hair out of Tokiya’s grip, he reaches up, grabs Tokiya by his ears, and hauls him down, mashing his face into his own for a violent kiss. Their teeth clack together, and Syo can taste iron in the back of his throat as his nose collides with Tokiya’s face, probably near his cheek bone. Syo can’t tell – he’s too busy trying to inflict more pain and embarrassment on Tokiya than on himself.

            He pulls back, breathing hard and smirking with self-satisfaction. “Ha! How do you like tha-mmph!”

            Before he can finish boasting, Tokiya covers his mouth with a kiss of his own, and he forces his tongue down Syo’s throat. Syo’s too shocked to bite down or do anything but tangle his own tongue with Tokiya’s, like a weird kind of wrestling match. It’s a fight to see who will come up for air first.

            It’s Syo’s loss. He breaks away, gasping. He’s ready to concede, to admit that he’s pushed Tokiya too far, but Tokiya doesn’t give him a chance to wave the figurative white flag of surrender. Roughly, he forces Syo’s chin up and goes in for another suffocating kiss. He’s holding Syo’s head with one hand, pushing him back toward the still-running shower until he’s crushed against the wall. With his free hand, Tokiya grips one of Syo’s biceps and positions his body so that Syo can’t move his other arm, essentially pinning both arms at his sides. If Syo struggles, he’ll slip. Water pours over them, making it even harder for Syo to breathe.

            But the worst of it is that Syo is starting to get hard.

            He’s terrified. He’s mortified. Tokiya is punishing him, he knows it. There’s no affection in Tokiya’s kisses. So why is he getting turned on? Does that mean Tokiya’s winning again? Is this part of his plan to embarrass him as well? Syo’s head is spinning – there’s too many emotions to process all at once, and Tokiya’s not giving him a chance to catch his breath.

            He’s angry.

            He’s embarrassed.

            He’s scared.

            But beyond all that, even as Tokiya grinds his shoulder blades into the wall behind him, as he suffocates Syo with kiss after violent kiss, Syo suddenly realizes that the one emotion he’s not feeling is hatred. He doesn’t hate Tokiya, despite the clashes, the feuding, the frustration. He’s pissed at Tokiya _because_ he doesn’t hate him. He _knows_ Tokiya can do better, but he’s just no good with words and prefers settling things with a fight, contest, or test of strength. However, this conflict in the shower room is a completely different beast.

            _I don’t want this_.

            Slowly, though Tokiya’s got his biceps pinned to his sides, Syo raises his forearms as high as they will go.

 _I don’t want this_.

            His fingers stretch, reaching for any part of Tokiya he can grasp.

 _I don’t want this_.

            He feels hot tears slide down his cheeks, mingling with the water from the shower.

 _I don’t want this_.

            He manages to grab hold of Tokiya’s arms somewhere near his elbows and squeezes, a small shuddery sob escaping from his chest before he can stop it.

            “I don’t want this…”

            Tokiya pulls back, startled, as the hot water streams over them. Those icy blue eyes no longer burn with anger, but they’re not quite back to being calm, cool, and distant, the way they usually are. He releases Syo from being pressed against the wall and moves him just out of the shower’s reach but doesn’t let go entirely. He’s staring at Syo intently as Syo scrubs the water and tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand.

            “So…what do you want?”

            Tokiya’s question catches him off-guard. “What?”

            “You must want something from me, otherwise you have no reason to interfere with my approach to life and work as an idol.”

            “I…I never wanted anything from you, Tokiya,” Syo sniffs, but manages a sulky glare to cover the turmoil of emotions he’s still trying to process. “I just don’t get you.”

            “Is that a problem?”

            “Yeah, for me it is. Maybe it’s because we’re in the same class or something, but for whatever reason we keep getting thrown together for projects or get caught up in random situations in this crazy school. I just wanna know who I’m dealing with, is all. You don’t make it easy, and it’s frustrating.”

            “So you do want something from me,” Tokiya states, slipping back into using _watashi_ instead of _ore_ , indicating that he’s resuming control over himself again. He runs his fingers through Syo’s wet hair, and his touch is unexpectedly gentle. “Everyone wants something from me, in the end,” he murmurs, almost more to himself than to Syo.

            _What the hell is that supposed to mean?_ Syo wonders.

            They stare at each other for a moment. Syo’s still trying to process everything that’s just happened, and judging by his facial expression, Tokiya seems to be trying to come to some conclusions of his own.

            Suddenly, Tokiya’s face settles into an expression of resolution, and he reaches around Syo to shut off the running water.

            “Take responsibility.”

            “Huh?” Syo’s not sure he’s heard right.

            “I haven’t lost control over my emotions like that in front of anyone for years. Take responsibility.” Tokiya’s eyes have resumed their cool expression, but there’s something else there, daring Syo to make the next move. Syo can’t put his finger on it, but it still makes him shiver.

            “How the hell am I supposed to do that, idiot? Whatever you want for compensation, I probably can’t afford it.” _Is he testing me again? Is this another challenge?_ Syo gets a fluttery, panicky feeling in his chest all over again and he glowers at Tokiya, half wary and half confrontational, like a caged animal.

            Tokiya chuckles humourlessly. “Oh, I think you can afford it. You will repay me with your body – though you might be a little short-changed.”

            It’s a terrible pun and a tasteless jab at his stature, and Syo’s not sure what to react to first – the fact that Tokiya cracked a bad joke or the blatant sexual proposition Tokiya just threw in his face.

            “I- just a minute – who’s repaying you with his body, huh? And short-changed? Really?” Syo sputters, too flustered to make an adequate come-back.

            “It’s very simple. Remember, I was in the middle of explaining what kinds of work up-and-coming idols have to do before they make it big before I was so rudely interrupted.” Tokiya steps away from Syo and starts walking toward the row of towel hooks, monologuing as though Syo wasn’t in the room with him. “Since Kurusu is telling me I can’t be high and mighty anymore, I must now resign myself to the likelihood of not debuting once I’m done here. Alas, I will have no other recourse but to follow in Ani’s footsteps, doing the same kind of work he’s had to do.” He removes his towel from its hook and returns to where Syo is standing, frozen in place as he listens to Tokiya’s twisted logic. Tokiya jabs a finger in his face. “You, Kurusu, will take responsibility by letting me practice on you. Right here, right now.”

            He drops his towel at Syo’s feet on the wet tile floor, allowing it to fold over itself in thirds. In one swift motion, he kneels on the towel and presses Syo’s hips against the wall with both hands.

            “Oh my God, Tokiya, seriously?!” Syo shrieks, wriggling like a worm on a fishing hook.

            “It’s not like you had any trouble getting it up while I was kissing you. Hold still.”

            _Shit, he noticed?!_ Syo can only gasp in shock as Tokiya sucks on him firmly, feeling himself rapidly getting harder as he takes in the warm, wet feel of Tokiya’s mouth. His throat seems to go on forever, and his tongue feels like it’s moving in all directions, pretzeling itself around Syo’s length. Syo’s hands go for Tokiya’s head and tries to yank it away, desperate and embarrassed. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Tokiya’s _good_. Not that he’s got anything to compare it to – he’s never gotten a blowjob before – but in less than two minutes Tokiya’s ruined him for enjoying that experience with anyone else, ever. Tokiya sucks harder, forcing Syo even deeper down his throat, and Syo can only grip Tokiya’s hair like a lifeline.

            When Tokiya starts _humming_ , Syo’s world explodes in a million little pieces.

            “Augh, Tok-…Tokiya, st-stop! Shit, you bastard, I…hngh…I said, stop!”

            But Tokiya doesn’t stop, and Syo realizes that if Tokiya actually did stop, he’d be screwed. Tokiya’s low, undulating pitch resonates through Syo’s groin as he moves, and although Syo’s hips are still pinned to the wall, he can’t help bucking anyway to meet Tokiya’s mouth. He’s breathing hard and biting his lip so hard he can taste blood, trying not to let any more noises out, trying not to let Tokiya have the victory over him, but he’s already a lost cause. Without realizing it, he’s switched from pushing Tokiya away to pulling him closer with every thrust.

            “Dammit, Tokiya, I’m gonna-”

            With one hard yank, Syo rams Tokiya’s face into his crotch as he comes, forcing Tokiya to take everything Syo gives him. He bends over Tokiya’s head, his orgasm wrenching a reluctant yell out of him as he shakes. Tears spring to the corners of his eyes once more, as much from the force of his own physical release as from the emotional rollercoaster Tokiya’s put him through.

            When Syo finally straightens, Tokiya slowly pulls back, looking up at Syo, but doesn’t release him from his mouth. Another staring contest, but this time Syo’s looking down at Tokiya instead of the other way around. He can’t break eye contact – looking down at Tokiya is too novel, and his eyes have Syo hooked. That look in Tokiya’s eyes – Syo can’t read it, but it’s enthralling. Furthermore, with the way he’s feeling both physically and emotionally, he can’t tell if he’s won or lost this round. Tokiya gives nothing away.

             Finally, with aching slowness, Tokiya releases Syo’s cock and, while maintaining eye contact, swallows Syo’s come with a gulp.

            Though Syo’s got nothing left to give, the sight of Tokiya swallowing his come makes his cock twitch, spurting a dribble of leftover come down his leg. He finally breaks eye contact, and for the first time during their whole exchange, he blushes.

            “Looks like I won’t need to practice much, after all,” Tokiya rasps, the barest hint of a grin ghosting across his face. He’s breathing hard, and he coughs a little.

            “Jeez, are you even going to be able to sing tomorrow? We’ve got that song you, me, and Ren have to record tomorrow for our S class group project,” Syo scolds, trying to sound harsh to hide his embarrassment. “You did this all on your own, you know, so you better not drag us down tomorrow. Drink some tea or something later.”

            Tokiya’s still on his knees, and he adjusts his posture into a seiza position. Placing his palms on the wet tile floor beside his knees, he performs a kneeling half-bow and murmurs, “Of course, Kurusu-sama.”

            Tokiya’s shift from being an entitled pain in the ass to a submissive yes-man is too much, too drastic a difference. Syo, still too emotionally wound up from everything that’s just happened to him, bursts out laughing.

            “Alright, alright, I get it. No more interfering. Go back to being a pain in the ass – looking down at you is too weird -” cautiously, he bends down and places two fingers under Tokiya’s chin, raising him up out of his bow “- though I can see the appeal of being able to look down on someone.” His legs feel a little rubbery, and he’s not sure he’s ready to walk across the slick tile floors. But now he definitely needs a shower, so he forces himself to stand up straight and concentrate on maintaining his balance. “I’m still pissed at you, but I think I get it now, anyway. You’re hard on us ‘cuz you’re hard on yourself. Natsuki says I get that way too sometimes.” He walks over to his fallen loofa and picks it up. “Just…don’t be a jerk about it, ok? And treat yourself a little kinder too.”

            “I…I’ll try.” Tokiya shuffles to his feet, picking up his sopping wet towel off the floor. He seems to be in as much of a daze as Syo, since he doesn’t retort with some condescending comment like he usually would. Syo catches a glimpse of a wet patch on the towel that’s darker than the rest of the soaked area. He faces into the shower, away from Tokiya’s line of sight, before letting himself smirk. _Maybe Tokiya actually enjoys being on his knees more than he’s willing to admit…_

 

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going for something a little different this time around since the previous three chapters were all together too mushy and touchy-feely. Seriously...every single one so far has ended with people saying thank you, and Chapter 3 was saccharine enough to give someone emotional diabetes. Well, I'm Canadian, so maybe being polite is so ingrained in me that it's coming out in my fics. =P
> 
> Look for the next installment on July 1.


	5. Ren X Natsuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepless night leads Ren toward an unexpected encounter with Natsuki in the shower room, causing Ren to consider the possibility that Natsuki is much more than the ditzy airhead everyone thinks he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JUST A HEADS-UP: This chapter contains references to self-harm and non-prescription medication abuse. If either of these topics are triggers for you, I advise that you skip this chapter and wait until my next installment on July 16.  
> ~ _@_v

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

            It’s two in the morning. Ren is wishing with all his heart that he could impale Masato’s clock with a dart, but it’s too dark to do something as reckless as throwing pointy objects in the direction of a sleeping person. Despite their constant conflicts, Ren has no real desire to inflict lasting damage on the Hijirikawa heir – too much paperwork, for one thing. For another, he would lose his major source of entertainment. Ah, but on the plus side, his older brother would probably have to deal with the fallout of Ren’s irresponsible actions, so…

            Ren abandons that morbid train of thought and rolls over for the umpteenth time. He can’t settle. He had tried reading, tried working on some lyrics for a new song, even tried listening to the recording of his mother’s singing. That last activity was a mistake – if anything, it’s made him feel even more unsettled. Perhaps it has something to do with his time spent at this academy so far, and the people he can’t help interacting with. It’s getting more and more difficult to maintain that arm’s-length distance between himself and his classmates and their roommates, and he finds himself thinking about their well-being at the strangest times. He’s always thought that by not caring about anything, he could avoid being hurt by others. But…he’s only human after all, and a half-decent one, at that (regardless of the opinions Masato has no qualms expressing in front of the others). There’s only so much disinterest he can manage, even as he’s building reluctant bonds with his classmates and their roommates.

            Ren shuffles out of bed and rummages around in the dark for some sweatpants. It’s too dark to go for a run outside, so he feels his way around the room until he locates his sneaker bag of toiletries. _Maybe a warm shower will help_ , he thinks as he lifts his towel off the hook from the back of the door. Carefully, quietly, he slips out of the room.

            The hallway gives off a creepy, deserted vibe. All the lights are off, and the moonlight streaming through the massive windows illuminates Ren’s path with an eerie glow. He stops by one of the windows on a whim and looks out. Of course, there’s nothing of interest to see, but Ren catches sight of his own dim reflection in the glass. Maybe the moonlight or the ambience of the hallway is messing with his head, but for a split-second Ren feels like the image in the glass is not his reflection, but another person entirely, looking back at him. He blinks, and the image in the glass is simply his own reflection again. _Creepy…_

            Usually, Ren’s too rational for this kind of stuff to rattle him, but this is a weird night and he’s in a weird state of mind. _What if there really was an opposite version of me, somewhere out there?_ He wonders as he continues down the hall. _What would I – he – be like? Hmm, the opposite of me…he’d probably care too much, throw too much of himself away on others. Heh, he’d likely not flirt with the ladies, and he’d be too honest and straightforward, too. Ugh, it’s too weird to think about!_ Ren shakes his head and squashes his existential ponderings as he reaches the communal shower room.

            As he enters, he’s surprised to hear a shower running. _Maybe someone forgot to turn the water off_ , he thinks as he strips and dumps his sweatpants in a basket on the shelf. _No big deal_. However, as he pulls his shower stuff out of his sneaker bag, he catches the sound of humming, with half-mumbled words escaping here and there. _Ah, so I’m not alone_. In his weird mood, Ren’s not sure if that’s a good thing, but he pastes an easy-going expression on his face and prepares himself for having company.

            That easy-going expression lasts for about three seconds.

            As Ren rounds the corner to hang his towel, he sees Natsuki sitting on the tile floor, leaning against the wall with his legs straight out in front of him. The shower head is angled so that it’s streaming almost straight down, soaking Natsuki’s head and torso. His eyes are closed and, oddly, he’s still wearing his glasses. And he’s humming.

            “Shinomi? Shinomi! Hey, Shinomi!” Ren hangs his towel and, bottles in hand, walks carefully over to Natsuki, who stops humming and slowly opens his eyes.

            “Ren-kun? What are you doing here?” Natsuki blinks and runs his fingers under the rims of his glasses to flick the water out of his eyes.

            “I should ask you the same question.” Ren extends a hand, but Natsuki waves it away and closes his eyes again. His usual smile is replaced with…not quite a frown, but something approaching that. _Shinomi’s acting really strange…is he ok?_

            As if to answer his unspoken question, Natsuki mumbles, “I’m alright, really. Just couldn’t sleep. Did something kind of stupid, actually.”

            “Oh?” Ren raises an eyebrow. Natsuki’s speech pattern’s a little different than usual, rougher and more informal, and lacks its bright, cheery timbre. Ren goes on high alert. _Shinomi’s an airhead, but he’s not reckless. What the hell did he do?_

            “I can’t get the music out of my head. It’s always there, all the time, but it’s too incomplete, too fragmented. It’s like I spend every moment listening to a scratched CD on repeat, even when I’m sleeping.” Natsuki slowly raises a hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses rest, as if he’s got a migraine coming on. “If I sit down and write what I hear, what I feel, it’s better, because then the music has a direction. Sometimes I don’t even realize how much time has passed when I write – I’ll black out, then wake up to find stacks of music in my handwriting on my desk. Ah, sorry…I’m rambling. Just – I’m having a hard time focusing right now. Mmm…that stupid thing I did?” He chuckles humourlessly. “I tried to turn the music off.”

            “What the hell did you _do_?” Ren steps closer, heart pounding in his chest. Kneeling down next to Natsuki under the running water, he sets his bottles down and starts looking for evidence of self-harm. Excessive blood loss could explain Natsuki’s loopy behaviour, but Ren doesn’t see any blood. Nevertheless, he grabs one of Natsuki’s wrists and checks it, then the other, just in case. Natsuki’s eyes crack open and he chuckles a little, quietly.

            “It’s nothing like that, Ren-kun. I always keep a few bottles of extra-strength cough syrup around, but Syo-chan doesn’t know that I use it as a sleep aid, not for colds. I just…hmm…overdid it this time and went on a trip instead.”

            “Jeez, Shinomi…how much?”

            “Hmm…?”

            “How much did you have?”

            “About… almost a whole bottle? Maybe more? Can’t remember…Don’t know why – that stuff tastes terrible.”

            _Ok, probably not enough to do any lasting damage, considering his size, but still…_

Ren sits down next to Natsuki under the running water and pushes his wet bangs off his forehead, trying to get a better look at his eyes. They’re a little unfocused, and Natsuki can’t seem to maintain eye contact, but his pupils look normal enough. Still, Natsuki’s behaviour – no, more like his whole personality – has a different feel to it, an edge that was never there before and a sharpness in his eyes that seems out of place.

            Natsuki rambles on. “I’m not even sure how I got here. I was in my room, then suddenly I was here, standing under a cold shower. Changed the temperature, but started feeling really dizzy, had to sit down – really, how I managed to walk here is a mystery. And a cold shower? Heh…it’s like someone was looking out for me, or something. But it was just me in here. Alone. Until you came. Wait, did you help me, Ren-kun?”

            “No, Shinomi, it wasn’t me, but I’m glad I found you.” _Ah shit, I can’t tell if he’s coherent enough for me to leave him by himself and get help_. Ren’s at a loss for what to do next. Awkwardly, he smooths Natsuki’s bangs away from his forehead again, just to give his hands something to do, and Natsuki startles him by leaning over, resting his head on his shoulder. _Shit, did he pass out?_

            “Still…” Natsuki murmurs. “I’m glad it’s you that’s here. Syo-chan would be having a fit right now if he were here.”

            “Heh, like you’re one to talk,” Ren chuckles, but it’s laced with nerves – he has no idea what he would do if Natsuki actually passed out on him. _Gotta keep him awake somehow_. “You practically lose your mind over anything Ochibi-chan does, whether it’s reckless or adorable. But it’s true, he’d be scolding you, all right. I have half a mind to scold you myself – hey, still with me? Shinomi?”

            No response.

            “Shinomi?” Ren smacks his cheek lightly. “Shinomiya!”

            “Hmm…yeah, I’m awake. I don’t feel too dizzy any more, just a bit headachy. Not tired though, which was kinda the point.”

            _Could have fooled me_ , Ren thinks wryly. “Well, I hate to do this to you, but until I know you’re alright, I can’t let you fall asleep in here. You hear me, Shinomi? You absolutely cannot pass out on me.”

            “I told you, that’s not going to happen,” Natsuki grumps defensively, and that sharp edge shows itself a little more.

            “Alright, alright,” Ren sooths. “Just checking. But…um…I’m not really the bedside nurse-type you know? I’ve never had to take care of someone like this before, so I’m not quite sure what to do.”

            “What about Ittoki-kun? You looked after him, didn’t you?”

            “Well, yes, but he was never in any danger of losing consciousness, unlike a certain someone who deliberately downed a bottle of cough syrup.” Ren frowns. Is it just his imagination, or did Natsuki’s head feel a little heavier?

            “Thought…you weren’t…gonna scold…” Natsuki’s head slumps forward, sliding off Ren’s wet shoulder.

            “Shit!” Ren catches his head and sits him up, shaking him. “Shinomi! Wake up!” He smacks Natsuki’s cheek again, a little firmer this time. “Shinomi, come on! I told you not to pass out on me.” Leaning in, Ren tries to determine if Natsuki’s still breathing. The running water is making it difficult to tell.

            Suddenly, Natsuki’s eyes flick open and swiftly, before Ren can breathe a sigh of relief, he plants a kiss on Ren’s lips.

            “…the hell?!” Ren brings a hand to his mouth defensively, eyes wide with shock.

            “Sorry,” Natsuki mumbles. “I’ve just never seen you look worried like that before. Cute.” He closes his eyes again and leans back against the wall, raising his hand to his forehead. “Ugh…shouldn’t have moved so fast.”

            “I think it’s normal for anyone to be worried in this situation,” Ren protests, then adds, more to himself than to Natsuki, “I guess talking isn’t going to keep you awake.” His hand is still covering his mouth, but now it’s because he’s trying to hide the blush he can feel growing on his cheeks. Apart from that kiss coming at him out of the blue, he’s embarrassed to find that Natsuki’s lips actually feel _good_. So warm and soft, if a bit wet from being under the shower. There’s the slightest aftertaste of cough syrup on his lips too.

            “Ren-kun?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Don’t leave.”

            “What? Of course, I won’t! What gave you the idea that I would?”

            “…Good. Don’t want to be alone.” Natsuki opens his eyes and looks over at Ren pleadingly. The sharpness haunting his eyes is all but gone, and for a moment he just looks like himself, but it’s the most vulnerable version of himself that Ren has ever seen.

            That look squeezes Ren’s heart until he thinks it will burst. Natsuki’s just about the most affectionate and caring person in the whole academy, and he’s worried about being alone? True, he’s always looking out for Syo-chan and the cluster of people who have, more or less, become their mutual friends, but it occurs to Ren - who looks after Natsuki? Syo-chan does, in his own gruff way, but he can’t help with stuff that Natsuki doesn’t tell him about. That Natsuki would rather self-medicate than seek help from even his closest friend tells Ren that he’s only touched the tip of the iceberg. There’s no way he’s prepared to help Natsuki with his issues – he’s not even sure where to begin with his own – but there’s no way he can ever not care about Natsuki from now on.

            _No no no no, Shinomi’s eyes are closing again!_ Ren holds Natsuki’s head up once more, but this time instead of smacking his cheek or calling his name, he decides to return Natsuki’s kiss.

            Natsuki’s eyes stay closed, but he lifts his head a little and leans into the pressure of Ren’s lips on his. He flicks at Ren’s lips with his tongue, and Ren lets him into his mouth. The taste of cough syrup is stronger, but Ren doesn’t care. He’ll do anything to keep Natsuki conscious – though his altruism is swiftly turning into something a little more self-serving as he lets Natsuki take the lead.

            Ren feels Natsuki thread his fingers in his hair, making him shiver with the tingles coursing over his scalp. He can feel Natsuki adjust his position so that he's sitting up, away from the wall. _Good, he's engaging. Hopefully he'll stay too interested to pass out_. _Oh…_ Natsuki's tongue flicks upward against the roof of his mouth, and Ren suddenly realizes that _he_ might be the one in danger of passing out. Natsuki’s sucking all the air out of him, demanding more and more with every sweep of his tongue, with every flex of his fingers in Ren's hair.

            “Hold up, Shinomi.” Ren pulls back, gasping for air. “Are you ok with this? I was just trying to startle you awake, but…um…this is a bit…”

            Natsuki leans in for another swift kiss, this time on Ren's forehead. “There’s that cute worried look again,” he chuckles, but the sharpness in his eyes is back.

            “Look, it's just – I don't want to take advantage, ok?” Ren covers the lower half of his face again and looks away, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks once more.

            “Oh?” Natsuki cups Ren's face, placing his hands over Ren's. “I suppose that's fair, given the state I'm in. Even I can understand that much right now. But you – 'take advantage’ you said?” Natsuki snickers incredulously. “That’s the last thing I would have expected coming from you. Would you feel differently if I were to take advantage of you then?” He brushes his thumb over Ren's cheek, and his gaze flicks to Ren's crotch. “Judging by the state _you're_ in, I don’t think you're in much of a position to protest.”

 _Since when did Shinomi become such a smooth talker?_ Ren wavers a little. He wants to give in to those electric green eyes, sharpened and defensive but totally alluring. But…the tiny part of his brain that’s still coherent says that no matter what Natsuki says, it still feels like he’s taking advantage of the situation. While he may not give a damn about most people in general, he’s not a complete asshole, and Natsuki's the kind of person most people don’t want to be assholes to. Natsuki must have seen the hesitation on his face, and his eyes lose a little of their sharpness, looking a little more like they usually do.

            “You’re really actually trying to look out for me, eh?”

            Ren nods, not trusting himself to speak.

            “Then rather than taking advantage, let me give you a reward instead.”

            Ren swallows. He knows better, he really does, but those eyes have him frozen in place, unable to resist their siren song of desire. Briefly, he thinks back on his reflection in the window.

 _Opposites_ …

            Despite the gravity of the current situation, Ren’s puzzled by just how invested he is in Natsuki’s well-being right now. Well, anyone finding a classmate high on cough syrup would probably care just as much, if not more, but this is new for Ren. Natsuki’s idiotic decision to overindulge in cough syrup has flipped his usual behaviour to something approaching the opposite of himself as well, which Ren finds tantalizingly novel. _Well, if this is a night for opposites…why not?_

            With his tenuous grasp on this shaky line of reasoning, Ren caves. “I’ll accept whatever you have to offer then,” he says quietly, a tentative smile pulling on the corners of his mouth as he slowly lowers his hand away from his face. He's surprised his voice doesn’t crack.

            “Good.” Natsuki nods and runs his fingers through Ren's hair. The brush of his fingertips makes Ren’s scalp tingle, and he shivers a little. “Sit on my lap and pass me that conditioner.”

            “You’re really not holding back, are you?” Ren tries for a lighthearted tone as he settles into Natsuki’s lap, facing him with his legs wrapped around his waist, but his heart is pounding. Just what did he agree to? And what is Natsuki planning on doing with conditioner?

            “Relax, Ren-kun. I'm going to take good care of you.” Natsuki runs his fingers through Ren's wet hair, brushing it away from his face.

            “Idiot. I’m the one who should be taking care of you.” Ren copies Natsuki’s movements, weaving his own fingers through Natsuki’s golden locks and, feeling a little daring, initiates a deep kiss. He wants to test Natsuki, to make sure he’s really into this.

            “Mmm…Ren…” Natsuki pulls back with a small smile, and Ren notes the loss of the usual honorific Natsuki uses for his name. “You’re quite good at kissing, you know?”

            Ren returns the smile. Two can play at the name game. “You’re not half bad yourself…Natsuki.”

            Natsuki’s fingers clench almost painfully in Ren’s hair and his eyes go sharp once more, but this time it’s with lust, not wariness. _Ah, he likes it when someone uses his first name_. Ren hardly has time to file that little tidbit of information in his memory before Natsuki makes his next move. Natsuki goes in for a suffocating kiss, which makes Ren feel like he’s being devoured. It’s exhilarating, and Ren loses himself in Natsuki’s kisses, barely noticing that Natsuki’s hands have left his hair and are now trailing all over his back, his hips, his nipples. His skin tingles under Natsuki’s touch, and his head’s going fuzzy from desire and possibly oxygen deprivation – he’s not really sure, nor does he care at this point. Any reservations he had about taking advantage of Natsuki have long flown out of his head, replaced only with the feeling of his body being on fire everywhere his skin connects with Natsuki’s.

            The withdrawal of Natsuki’s hands coupled with the sound of an opening bottlecap startles Ren, though Natsuki has not stopped kissing him for one second. Ren pulls back to watch, brimming with curiosity. _Ah, right, the conditioner…what’s he –_

            Natsuki slathers his hands in conditioner, then strokes Ren’s cock slowly from base to tip. The sensation is unlike anything Ren has ever experienced in his life, and he groans in ecstasy, throwing his arms around Natsuki’s neck and flopping forward as Natsuki works his length. He murmurs Natsuki’s name in his ear, spurring him on. His face his hot, his strength is gone, and all he can do is ride the wave of pleasure coursing through his groin.

            He’s so focused on what Natsuki’s doing to his front, it takes him some time to realize that Natsuki intends to put the conditioner on his other hand to good use somewhere else on his body. Before he can protest, Natsuki places one slick finger against his asshole, pressing firmly but not forcefully. Ren’s eyes widen, and he tries to sit up.

            “Ah ha ha, Ren! So you can look worried even in this kind of situation,” Natsuki laughs, pressing down on Ren’s back with the hand he had been using to stroke him, holding him in place. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow.”

            “Don’t joke! If I can’t walk tomorrow, let alone go to dance practice, you are never going to hear the end of it!” Ren blusters, but he’s too turned on to back down now. Natsuki’s touch has set him on fire, and at this point he’ll take whatever Natsuki feels like giving him. He’s poked at his own ass once out of curiosity, but having someone else take control is new for Ren. The fact that that someone is Natsuki only adds to the novelty of the experience.

            “How does it feel? Slippery enough?” Natsuki asks, pulling Ren out of his thoughts.

            “Mmm, yeah. I think so. Never used conditioner before.”

            “Oh? Then you've done this before?”

            “Not with anyone. Moment of curiosity.” Ren takes deep, steadying breaths as Natsuki traces slow, persistent circles over his entrance. The conditioner really does make everything feel better, though Ren is also still tingling from Natsuki’s earlier ministrations, making the whole process a hundred times more pleasurable than when Ren had played with himself. Each time Natsuki increases the pressure on his asshole, he breathes out, trying to relax, hyperaware of how his muscles clench in response to Natsuki’s touch. As the hot water streams over them, Ren focuses on the sensations happening behind him. Suddenly, Natsuki’s finger slips in, and Ren clenches instinctively. _Relax, relax_ , he tells himself as Natsuki continues with his gentle, persistent pressure. The stretch burns, but doesn’t hurt, and it’s not long before Ren has breathed himself into an almost relaxed state.

            “I'm all the way in now. How do you feel?” Natsuki asks.

            “Hmm, well…it's not bad, exactly, but…Oh!” Natsuki’s done something different with his finger, sending a new kind of jolt through Ren. “Whatever you just did, do that again.”

            “What, this?” Natsuki performs the movement again, a little slower this time and with a little more pressure.

            “Ah! Y-yeah, that,” Ren gasps. “What did you just do?”

            Natsuki chuckles, and his tone is almost playful. “I just curled my finger a little. I was trying to find your sweet spot. Looks like I found it.” He slowly draws his finger back, and when it slips out, Ren can’t stop the whine that slips out with it. “That good, eh?” Natsuki pops the cap off the conditioner again and squirts more out onto his fingers. “Ready for round two?”

            Ren can only nod. He’s a hot mess of nerves and lust, and only Natsuki’s hand on his back, holding him in position, keeps him from grabbing Natsuki’s finger and shoving it in himself. When Natsuki finally reapplies pressure to Ren’s asshole, it’s a relief. The first finger slips in easily this time, and Natsuki works his hole with small, steady thrusts. The movements have Ren tied up in knots – he wants more of that finger-curling thing Natsuki did. Impulsively, he shifts the position of his arms around Natsuki’s neck and rocks into his hand, trying to feel him deeper.

            “Ren?”

            “Need more, Natsuki. Give me more.”

            A sharp intake of breath tells Ren that he’s on to something. “You can do more. I can take it, everything you want to give me, I can handle it.” As he reassures Natsuki, somewhere in the back of his mind Ren realizes he’s not just talking about handling Natsuki’s finger up his ass. He wants to take on any of Natsuki’s worries, concerns, and problems that he’s willing to give him. He gently squeezes his arms around Natsuki’s neck, then sits back on Natsuki’s hand to look at his face. Green eyes meet blue under the cascading water, and Ren holds his gaze, willing his feelings to reach that part of Natsuki’s psyche that doubts the sincerity of the friendship extended to him on all sides from that cluster of people that have become their mutual friends.

            Natsuki’s eyes have lost nearly all their sharpness now, and are now back to their usual soft, sensitive expression behind his glasses. He’s maintaining eye contact with Ren easily now, and he seems more alert. Maybe the effects of the cough syrup have finally worn off, but Ren would like to think that his reassurances had something to do with Natsuki getting back to almost normal as well. Ah, but…Natsuki still has his finger up his ass. Would that be considered normal?

            “I’ll give you everything I can,” Natsuki finally replies, gently guiding Ren back down to his initial flopped-over position over Natsuki’s shoulders. The dual implication of Natsuki’s response is not lost on Ren, but before he can think too much about it, Natsuki slips a second finger into his ass, drawing out a fresh set of sensations and a groan from Ren.

            “A-ah, Natsuki…hgn…’s good…keep going…”

            Conditioner really is wonderful stuff.

            With careful little thrusts, Natsuki resumes teasing Ren into compliance, flexing his fingers and stretching Ren’s hole, making him shiver and moan incoherently into Natsuki’s wet hair. The addition of the second finger is driving Ren crazy with need, and it’s not long before the burning sensation is gone and he’s stretched out enough that he can comfortably rock into Natsuki’s hand once again. Natsuki matches his thrusts with Ren’s rocking, making little sounds as Ren grinds down on his hand. For his own part, Ren can’t stop the desperate-sounding moans escaping from him every time he bears down on Natsuki’s hand.

            Natsuki withdraws his hand from Ren’s back, and Ren rocks more vigorously. Natsuki adds the finger curls to his thrusts, sending him nearly over the edge. “Na…Natsuki – I’m so close…more, I need more.”

            “Together then, Ren,” Natsuki pants, and Ren realizes that he’s somehow working his own cock along with taking care of Ren’s ass. “I’m nearly…nearly…”

            With one final thrust of his fingers up Ren’s ass, Natsuki comes, plastering Ren’s stomach. The jolt to Ren’s sweet spot along with feeling Natsuki’s orgasm sends him spiraling out of control, and he comes hard, shaking like a leaf in a typhoon as his voice echoes around the deserted shower room and his arms tighten around Natsuki’s neck in a death grip.

            When Ren finally comes back down to earth, the first thing he notices is that Natsuki’s fingers are still up his ass.

            “Natsuki?”

            “I’m right here, Ren-kun. I’ll go slow. Just waiting for you to be ready.”

            “I’m ready.”

            “Ok. Take a deep breath and exhale as I pull out.”

            Ren closes his eyes, takes a deep breath as instructed, then slowly lets it out through his nose when he feels Natsuki move. The conditioner must have gotten absorbed or washed away, because he can definitely feel a slight burning sensation as Natsuki pulls his fingers out. But more than that, his whole body feels heavy, tingling with the aftereffects of his orgasm. A slight jolt when Natsuki’s fingers slip out, and then it’s over. Ren just wants to fall asleep then and there, but suddenly he feels Natsuki start to lean back, and he sits up. Natsuki leans back against the wall, eyes closed.

            “Shinomi…you didn’t just pass out on me, did you?” Ren panics and feels a twinge of guilt. Maybe he had pushed Natsuki too far, asked for too much.

            “No…I’m still here. In fact, I feel more like myself now than I’ve felt in the past two weeks.” Natsuki opens his eyes and, despite the water running down his face from the shower, his eyes are clear, bright, and focused behind his glasses. “I feel like I can finally think clearly again.”

            Ren’s not entirely convinced that Natsuki’s really alright, but he has to admit he looks much better than he did when Ren found him. “Let’s dry off then,” he replies, “and I’ll walk you back to your room.”

            “…Ok.”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            Ren walks Natsuki back into his room and helps him settle into bed without waking Syo, then heads back to his own room. He’s feeling overwhelmed with the whole experience, and to be honest, just the slightest bit sore. But more than that, he’s processing the change in Natsuki’s personality as a result of the cough syrup. It could just be a side effect, but Ren doesn’t deny that he may have just glimpsed a part of Natsuki no one has ever seen before. The change was so notable, it was almost like Natsuki had become a different person entirely. There’s no way that drinking too much cough syrup could account for that change entirely.

            _Opposites…_

            Ren catches a glimpse of his reflection in the window once more as he meanders down the moonlit hallway, and the phrase “physician, heal thyself” comes to mind, unbidden. After this experience with Natsuki’s altered personality, he can’t deny the existence of his own mask pulled firmly over his true self – a self that has the capacity for deeply caring about others, for feeling truly passionate about the music he loves, for treasuring the friends he’s acquired since coming to this academy. Perhaps, with time, both he and Natsuki will find the courage to be the best versions of themselves, leaning on each other when one or the other needs to let the mask slip for a time.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ren and Natsuki - the two characters I have the most difficulty with in writing from their POVs - and I had the audacity to stick them together. I must not like myself very much...but when it comes down to it, I do like trying to do the impossible. =D
> 
> A lot of the commentary drifting around the interwebs pegs Ren as an extrovert, but based on a lot of his behaviour in the anime (which is pretty much my main reference), I'm tempted to think he's more of an introvert, since despite his flirty and gregarious nature, he often carves out alone time to sort out his thoughts and feelings, like he's prepping himself for/recovering from being around people. In any case, I wanted to capture some of his reflective side in this chapter.
> 
> Also, as with my earlier chapter featuring Natsuki, I wanted Natsuki to be himself in the shower room rather than devolving into Satsuki. I thought robotripping would be an interesting angle, since I could see how the effects might weaken the divide between Natsuki's personalities without becoming Satsuki altogether. That being said, please don't actually go off and drink bottles of cough syrup! It's not good for your liver or your sanity.
> 
> Sorry for the long end note. Please look forward to the final chapter of this story on July 16, followed by an epilogue on August 1.


	6. Masato X Otoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masato envies Otoya's easy-going nature and wrestles the inner emotional turmoil that constantly threatens to destroy his reserved façade.

            Masato has just done the unthinkable.

            He hears the end-of-day school bell chime and gently closes the piano lid for the keyboard with a sigh. He’s usually in the classroom at about this time, packing up his books and making sure he’s got the dates right for turning in his next assignments, but today he’s been in the practice room all afternoon instead, noodling on the piano. He didn't even make any excuses to Ringo or make an appearance at the infirmary to cover his ass. He just…didn't go.

            If he had to point to a reason, and if he was really being honest with himself, he would be compelled to admit that he just couldn’t handle that perpetual ray of sunshine, Ittoki Otoya. Not today.

 _I suppose I will have to devise some sort of excuse for tomorrow_ , he thinks as he gathers his belongings. He stops just in front of the door, listening for voices or footsteps in the hall that would indicate the presence of witnesses to Masato’s crime. When he determines that the coast is clear, he pushes the door open and exits the practice room.

            As he rounds the corner though, a familiar laugh, bright and bubbly, echoes down the hall, and Masato steps back around the corner, plastering his back against the wall. Otoya is there with Syo, hanging around near the only exit on this side of the building. Not only is he the person he wants to see the least, but they are also classmates, which means that if Otoya sees him now, he’ll know Masato played hooky. _What to do…I can’t just stand around in the hallway forever. That would seem suspicious. Ugh, I just want to go back to the dorm._ He peeks around the corner to determine exactly where Otoya is, trying to determine the best strategy for a successful escape.

            Suddenly, a hand descends on Masato’s shoulder, and Masato lets out an undignified yelp. Spinning around, he expects to see Ringo, ready to give him a scolding for missing class, but it’s only Ren. Tokiya’s with him too – they must have just finished with class.

            “That was…” Ren snickers, “…so worth it. Hijiri, you’re wound up tighter than an alarm clock today. Who knew you were capable of making the same amount of noise as one.”

            “Jinguji, in no way do I resemble an alarm clock,” Masato fights to regain his composure. Ren and Tokiya wouldn’t know that he skipped class this afternoon, so justifying his reasons for peeking around a corner without Ren teasing him mercilessly is going to be challenging, to say the least. However, it seems Ren isn’t really interested in Masato’s behaviour as much as he is interested in capturing Masato. Masato suddenly feels Ren tugging on his collar, pulling him around the corner. He throws a pleading look in Tokiya’s direction, but Tokiya just shrugs and follows a few steps behind. _What on earth is going on?_

            “Ikki! Found him!” Ren proclaims, dragging Masato down the hall. If this were a scene in a manga, Masato would be exaggeratedly flailing around, limbs everywhere, eyes squeezed shut, trying to run away. As it is, he can only stumble along as Ren holds him by his collar at an awkward angle.

            “Alright!” Otoya pumps his fist in the air. “Now we just need Nacchan, and we’re set!”

            Syo pulls out his phone. “He’s on his way. God, this is gonna be great – I’m so pumped!”

            “If I may – Jinguji, let go, will you? – If I may ask, what are we doing, and why am I involved?” Masato finally interjects.

            Ren releases his hold on Masato’s collar, but leans casually on his shoulder like Masato is his personal armrest, much to Masato’s annoyance. “Ikki here wants a three-on-three soccer match, roommates versus roommates. Some sort of competition between him and Ochibi-chan, I think. I don’t really care what started it, but it seems interesting enough to pass the time, eh?”

            “Hardly,” Masato grumps and pushes Ren’s arm off his shoulder. He glances again at Tokiya. “I’m surprised you’ve agreed to this nonsense, Ichinose-san.”

            Tokiya sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Between Shinomiya-san, Kurusu, and Otoya begging for my participation, it’s more troublesome to keep refusing than it is to just waste an hour and have it over with.”

            “Aww, Tokiya, don’t be like that,” Otoya pops up next to him, restraining himself at the last minute from flinging an arm around his shoulders. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

            “I respectfully decline,” Masato says, trying to walk around the group to reach the exit.

            “Ah, Masa, wait! Don’t go!” Otoya runs up behind him. Quietly, so only Masato can hear, he says, “I need to talk to you later about today.” Then a little louder, “You won’t have to do much, and it’s only for an hour. I need you – we need you. Otherwise it just won’t be the same.”

 _Ah, he wants to know why I skipped class, I suppose_. Masato takes a deep breath. He’s cornered, plus he’s got an audience. He looks down at Otoya’s puppy eyes – he can see what Tokiya means about how troublesome it is to keep refusing him. He’s about to insist on leaving, but something about Otoya’s eyes catches his attention. It’s slight, barely noticeable, but the edges of his eyes are tinged pinkish-red… _almost like he has been crying_ , Masato thinks. _Impossible._ But now his curiosity is piqued – what could cause the perpetually optimistic Otoya to cry, if that’s really what happened?

            “Fine.” He states, and Otoya’s face lights up with a big grin. “I’ll play. But only for an hour.”

            Just then, Natsuki shows up. “Hi everyone! What did I miss?”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            The game went about as well as could be expected, ending with Otoya and Syo good-naturedly engaging in a heated debate over which team actually won. Masato takes the opportunity to slip away. He can’t deny that the exercise has done him some good, but he still would rather not spend time around Otoya right now. Instead, he opts for trying to get a shower before the communal shower room descends into madness with everyone rushing in together. By the looks of things, Otoya and Syo might just end up going for a rematch.

            Back in his room, Masato evaluates his uniform as he takes it off. Since this had been an impromptu game, no one had been wearing gym clothes. Masato’s pants have grass stains, and his tie and sweater have somehow gotten crumpled despite his attempt to fold them neatly before starting the game. Once again, he and everyone else had gotten caught up in Otoya’s pace – his enthusiasm and upbeat personality are just too much to resist. _But Ittoki has that luxury_ , Masato thinks vehemently. _He can afford to say and do whatever he wants, no holds barred._

            He lays his pants across his low table and sprays some stain remover on the grass stains, because he’s too meticulous to leave the stains until later, then shakes out and refolds his sweater. Removing the rest of his clothes, he chucks them in the laundry and pulls on a casual yukata. He gathers his shower things, but as he’s about to leave, he catches sight of Ren’s darts on his coffee table. He ambles over to Ren’s side of the room, takes a dart, aims for the centre…and hits the wall three inches above and to the right of the dart board. _Today is certainly a day for being impulsive_ , he thinks wryly. He leaves it there, just for badness.

            Once in the shower room, Masato folds his yukata into a basket on the shelf. Hanging his towel on a hook, he decides to rinse under the shower, then soak in the communal bath for a while. He’s got to get a grip on his emotions, or he’ll spiral out of control and lose his one chance at pursuing music. If his father ever hears that he had skipped classes, especially after Masato had begged so hard to come to this school in the first place…he doesn’t even want to imagine the consequences, not the least of which would be getting pulled out of the school. He quickly washes his hair under the shower, then makes his way to the needlessly extravagant tub in the next room. As always, the tub is filled with fresh, hot water, and the ambient lighting bathes the room in a relaxing glow. Masato slips into the water and leans against the wall, closing his eyes. It’s not a moment too soon – within seconds, he hears the clatter of people invading the shower room. He sinks lower in the water, hoping that his head doesn’t show above the wall and that no one else gets the bright idea of soaking in the tub.

            Soon the din of people showering subsides, and Masato is left alone with his thoughts once more.

            The sudden splash of water next to him yanks him out of his thoughts, and he opens his eyes to see none other than Otoya in the tub with him. He fights to stay in control of his emotions. _It’s not Ittoki’s fault_ , he reminds himself. _It’s not like I told him that I don’t want to see him right now. And what would I even say? “Hey Ittoki, you being yourself flies in the face of every ideal I ever grew up with, so could you please go away until you’re a different person?” Nonsense…I’ve just got to calm down…calm down…_

            He doesn’t realize he’s frowning until he hears Otoya tentatively call out to him. “Masa? Are…are you alright?”

            “Pardon?”

            “I mean, you look kind of…um…”

            “I’m fine, thank you for asking.” He’s not fine. His ears are ringing, and he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. He can’t be here anymore, not with Otoya in the room.

            “Masa?”

            Something inside him snaps. “Please, just let me be!” He bursts out and stands to his feet.

            “Masa!” Otoya stands as well and grabs Masato’s wrist. “Stop, please!”

            Masato’s chest is heaving, and he would like nothing more than to wrench his hand free and get the hell out of there. But the danger of slipping outweighs his need to escape, so he just stands there, stock still. Wave after wave of angst, irritation, and a million variations of negativity wash over him, too much for him to process or control.

            “You have no idea…” he begins, then hesitates, gritting his teeth. Maybe he shouldn’t say anything at all. But then…maybe Otoya deserves to know what’s going on in his head right now. He tries again. “You have no clue how hard it is for me to watch you smile sometimes.”

            Otoya drops his wrist and looks down, eyes riddled with guilt. “I – I’m sorry…I didn’t know…”

            “Stop. It’s nothing you did. You are only being yourself. It’s nothing to be sorry for.” Masato forces himself to speak slowly and calmly, but there’s an undercurrent of tension in his voice that he can’t eliminate. Otoya doesn’t deserve to be verbally thrashed because Masato is having a bad day. But now he has to figure out how to explain himself to Otoya without making him feel bad. He sits back down in the tub, and Otoya follows. “I just…well, my family life being what it is, I’ve never had the luxury of expressing myself freely. Every day I watch you laugh and smile, and sometimes…” he swallows. His voice is thick. “Sometimes I wish I had your freedom.”

            Otoya looks down at his hands under the water, not saying anything. Masato can’t see his face very well, so he can’t tell how he’s reacting to his confession. The silence is heavy, unbearable, and seems to go on forever.

            “Is that why you were playing that song earlier?” Otoya finally asks quietly.

            “Hmm? What song? Wait, how did you…?”

            “I saw you weren’t in class this afternoon, which is really weird for you. I asked Ringo-sensei to let me check on you and went to go look for you. I finally found you in a practice room, but you looked, um…really down, and like you wanted to be left alone. The song you were playing when I found you…something about the way you played it…it went something like…” He starts humming, then lifts a hand out of the water and rubs at his face when he suddenly chokes halfway through a note.

            “Are you – did it make you cry?” Masato asks, understanding dawning on him. _So that’s why his eyes looked the way they did_. “That song is an American song called ‘Over the Rainbow’. It has lyrics too. It’s about yearning for the freedom and happiness that the singer believes must exist on the other side of a rainbow, if only they could get there.”

            “Why, Masa?” Otoya sniffs. “Why do you feel like you need to play that kind of song?”

            Before Masato can reply, Otoya lunges at him, wrapping his muscular arms around Masato’s slender frame. Before he can react, Otoya presses his lips against Masato’s cheek, and Masato can’t tell if the wetness he feels on Otoya’s face is from the bathwater or from tears. He’s frozen in shock, too stunned to move as Otoya murmurs into his neck, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry you’ve been feeling this way. We’re in the same class and see each other all the time, but I never even noticed how lonely you were, how much you were hurting. I’m sorry.”

            “L-like I said,” Masato stammers, “it has nothing to do with you personally.” But his voice cracks, and all the sorrow, anger, and frustration he’s been holding back for weeks finally overflow in the form of choked-off sobs, muffled into Otoya’s shoulder. Otoya strokes his hair and holds him close, and Masato clings to him like a lifeline. He’s only barely aware of Otoya pressing kisses into his hair, but he finds it unexpectedly comforting, if a little odd. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his sobs subside and his breathing eases.

            “I don’t really know anything about family,” Otoya quietly begins. “I don’t usually talk about it, 'cuz the way I grew up wasn't exactly…normal. I was really young when some not-so-great stuff happened, but I was really lucky when I finally had people to help me learn to laugh and smile. Maybe…maybe you didn’t get to learn at the same age I did, but I think…I think now that you’re here in this academy, you can learn. I’ll help you, if you want.” He leans back and looks Masato right in the eye. “I want to see you smile more, Masa.”

            Masato blinks, stunned, and his heart squeezes painfully in his chest at Otoya’s sincerity. Otoya leans in to kiss him again, but this time he kisses Masato squarely on his lips. Masato’s lips respond all on their own, kissing Otoya back. By the time Masato’s brain catches up with his lips, Otoya’s tongue is in his mouth, passing light, fluttery sweeps over his soft palate. For once, Masato doesn’t protest, doesn’t overthink anything, just goes with the flow. He slips his own tongue into Otoya’s mouth, winding around his tongue and passing over his molars. Oddly, he thinks he can taste artificial grape flavouring. _He must have snuck some candy or something when Ichinose-san wasn’t looking. Typical Ittoki_. He can’t help it – he snickers.

            Otoya pulls back, surprised. “What?”

            “Nothing. Just – never stop being yourself, ok?”

            “S-sure, Masa, but…wow…”

            Now it’s Masato’s turn to be surprised. “What?”

            Otoya’s face breaks into a big grin. “You smiled for me.”

            Masato’s hand shoots up to his mouth, covering it, but Otoya gently draws it away. “It’s ok. I’m glad. Really, really glad.”

            Otoya leans in to kiss him again, but this time plants little kisses on Masato’s neck and jaw, letting his wet fingers brush gently over Masato’s nipples. Masato can’t help arching his back under Otoya’s touch, making him shiver despite the warmth of the bath’s water. Otoya’s kisses make their way further down Masato’s body, now flitting over his collarbones, now ghosting over his sternum. His fingers flick over Masato’s nipples a little firmer, a little more often, and Masato’s hands find themselves tangled in Otoya’s unruly red hair as he’s being driven crazy by Otoya’s rough fingertips, calloused over from years of guitar-playing. The dam holding back his desire breaks, and he pulls Otoya’s head up, tilting his face towards his, and claims his mouth with a sloppy open-mouthed kiss.

            Only minutes ago, Masato had been desperate to avoid Otoya at all costs. Now, it’s taking whatever restraint he’s got left not to devour him on the spot. Otoya’s not simply overenthusiastic or high-strung – he’s got a real passion for living, for creating music, for the well-being of the people around him. His passion lives on the surface for everyone to see, while Masato’s passion hides as an undercurrent, capable of drowning anyone who gets pulled under, including Masato himself. But now, as he twines his tongue around Otoya’s and lets his hands wander up and down Otoya’s muscular back, Masato marvels at how, for once, he doesn’t mind being swept along by Otoya’s pace, or being drowned by his own passion. Otoya’s taking everything Masato’s giving him, wave after wave, riding with him instead of drowning under him.

            “Ittoki…I can’t get enough of you. Want more of you,” Masato pants into Otoya’s ear, hardly believing the audacity of the words coming out of his own mouth.

            “I’ll give you more, as much as you want, Masa,” Otoya murmurs into Masato’s neck, and Masato can hear the smile in his voice. “Keep up with me, eh?”

            “Who’s keeping up with who?” Masato retorts, but he can’t hold back the small smile that slips out. Quickly, he wraps his arms around Otoya’s waist and shifts, pushing Otoya into the water and against the wall. Otoya’s eyes go wide, shocked at being suddenly manhandled into a new position. Masato looks down at Otoya from above, enjoying the jumble of expressions competing for space on Otoya’s face as water drips off his own body onto Otoya’s face and torso. He’s never felt more _free_ , more _alive_ than at this moment.

            “Masa…?”

            “Sit on the edge of the wall, ok? And hold on to me – I don’t want you to slip and sprain your ankle again.”

            Otoya scrambles out of the water, holding onto Masato’s shoulders for balance. Masato wastes no time pushing Otoya’s knees apart and, holding Otoya’s hips steady, he wraps his tongue around his length. His heart lurches in his chest when Otoya yells his name.

            “Masa! Masa, woah – it’s too much, it’s so…” Masato can feel him bending over, can feel his hands gripping his shoulders, then grabbing at his hair. Those big, rough hands, softened with having been soaking in the bath, brush against Masato’s temples as they move and flex in his hair, sending tingles down his neck. _Who’s getting caught up in who’s pace now?_ he thinks with no small degree of self-satisfaction. He buries his nose in Otoya’s thatch of bright red pubic hair, damp from having been in the bathwater. He’s working hard to keep from gagging as Otoya’s cock twitches against the back of his throat, but his actions have the desired effect. Otoya’s incoherent groan echoes off the walls of the room as his grip goes impossibly tight in Masato’s hair. Masato stills, trying not to shift his tongue.

            “Masa…” Otoya whimpers, feeling his need. “Need you…need to…”

            Masato exhales through his nose in response and pulls back slowly. He’s never done anything like this before, but after nearly a year of living in the same room as Ren, well…he’s learned a thing or two about the process, whether he’s wanted to or not. But now, with Otoya’s legs splayed out in front of him and his good judgement all but gone, Masato’s feeling a little punch drunk from the overload of endorphins coursing through his brain, and he can’t wait to see what else he can do to Otoya. He slowly, teasingly, sucks on Otoya’s cock, sliding down to the base, his own cock twitching along with Otoya’s, and swirls his tongue around his head.

            “Masa, more…”

            He pulls back, scraping his teeth gently along his length, and Otoya shivers. The little needy sounds he makes as his fingers flex in Masato’s hair set Masato’s senses on fire. _So reactive…_ and his mind flashes back to another time in the shower room, when one other moment of impulsiveness led to him being on the receiving end of some unexpected attention. _Was I like this? Was this me? No wonder Kurusu couldn’t hold back_. Masato’s a little out of control himself. He sucks down on Otoya again, finding a rhythm, varying speed and pressure, keeping Otoya on edge as he can feel himself nearing his own release. Experiencing Otoya losing his mind as a direct result of his actions has wound him up so tight he feels like he could explode. He works Otoya’s length faster and harder, not caring about technique, determined to push him over the edge. When he goes, it's both a rush and a relief.

            “Ah- Masa! I'm gonna…I-” Otoya hauls down on fistfuls of Masato’s hair, shaking, and Masato's throat is hit with a hot mess that makes him gasp and choke – come tastes a lot more bitter than he had imagined. But now he's so turned on it hurts. Pulling away from Otoya, he drags his arm across his mouth before he finds his balance and stands.

            “Ittoki…need you.”

            Thankfully, Otoya doesn’t need to be asked twice. However, it's almost Masato's undoing. His knees buckle as Otoya takes him into his mouth, and he fumbles for Otoya's shoulders, gasping. The callouses on Otoya’s palms scrape over his thighs as he holds him firmly just under his ass, thumbs digging pleasurably into his hips. He thrusts deeply into Otoya's mouth, overwhelmed by the hot, slick sensations taking him apart piece by piece. Again, he's amazed at how well Otoya keeps pace with him, meeting him thrust for thrust and spurring him on with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He wants to drown in the sensations washing over him from Otoya's mouth and never come up again, but Otoya's drawing him out, raising him up to greater and greater heights until he can't possibly go any higher.

            When Otoya hums, low and sustained, he breaks, bending over Otoya’s head and clinging to his shoulders, leaving little red crescents where his fingernails gouge into his skin. His voice – it doesn’t even sound like his, echoing off the walls. The intensity of his orgasm seems to last forever, lingering persistently long after Masato has emptied himself of everything he’s got down Otoya’s throat.

            Finally, exhaustion takes over. He can’t stand anymore, and he sways slightly, panting. Otoya somehow has the presence of mind to ease him into a sitting position in the tub, and once he’s settled safely against the wall, Otoya slides down off the edge of the wall and snuggles up next to him. If Masato’s guessing right, Otoya’s feeling the same post-orgasm haze he’s feeling, and indulges him in his childish behaviour.

            But for Masato, it’s a more cathartic experience. Sure, he’s experienced a physical release, but as he sorts out how he’s feeling, vaguely aware of Otoya’s steady breathing on his shoulder, he realizes how much emotional pressure he could finally release as well, thanks to Otoya. Otoya, who Masato was ready to blame for everything he’s been bottling up inside, has turned out to be the very person who probably understands him the most right now. He closes his eyes and rests his head on top of Otoya’s.

            “Masa?”

            “Hmm?”

            “I’m gonna write you a song, ‘kay?”

            Masato lifts his head, and Otoya raises his to look him right in the eyes. “A different rainbow song. I was just thinking – there’s nothing wrong with wanting to see what’s on the other side of a rainbow, but wouldn’t it be better to think of it as an adventure rather than an escape?”

            “Ittoki…I…”

            “This academy is an adventure. Being in A class with you and Nacchan is an adventure. Singing Nanami’s songs is an adventure too. I know only one person will get to debut, and it might not be any of us, but…still, I want to have as many adventures as possible, and…um…I want you to have adventures too and look forward to stuff instead of getting stuck in past stuff. So,” he takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna write a new ‘Over the Rainbow’ song for you, ‘kay?”

            “I…I don’t even know what to say, Ittoki,” Masato whispers.

            Suddenly, Otoya giggles, and that bright, bubbly laugh no longer grates on Masato’s nerves. “I was taught that when someone gives you a gift, you say thank you.” His grin is infectious, and Masato allows himself a small smile.

            “Thank you, Ittoki.”

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had always planned on Masato playing "Over the Rainbow" as part of this story, but it was not until I was almost finished that I realized Otoya sings his own "Over the Rainbow" song. In short, this pairing couldn't have worked out better if I had planned it that way. I'm very pleased with this, if I do say so myself, even if it is, once again, more on the saccharine side.
> 
> And that's it for Communal Showers: Academy Edition! August 1 will be a short epilogue/prologue to the second part of this series, Communal Showers: Agency Edition, where Cecil makes a proper appearance along with QUARTET NIGHT. In any case, thanks for sticking with me this far. Please join me for the second series - the first chapter will be posted on August 16.
> 
> _@_V


	7. Epilogue: Satsuki X Kuppuru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Satsuki's composing, it's best just to leave him be. Unless you're an adorable black cat that doesn't have two brain cells to rub together.

            Satsuki hunches over the sheet music on his lap, frowning. Under the cover of the gazebo next to Saotome Academy’s man-made lake, he scribbles notes on the paper like his life depends on it. After all, only a few weeks remain until graduation from the academy, and he knows Natsuki’s seriously considering Shining Agency’s Master Class if he debuts. If Natsuki’s bid for graduation is successful, Satsuki will have to push even harder to will himself out into the open to protect Natsuki. For now, he’s taking advantage of working efficiently out in the open like this – it had taken all his willpower to cause Natsuki to forget to put his glasses on after taking a shower this morning. Every moment he wastes is a moment when Syo will eventually find him and wrestle Natsuki’s glasses onto his face, caging him once again.

            _Natsuki…_

            The sole purpose of Satsuki’s existence is to protect the sensitive and caring version of himself from those who would thoughtlessly, _shamelessly_ , take advantage of him. Satsuki absolutely cannot let that happen again, but he’s unable to do anything for Natsuki when he’s bound by those infernal glasses. He scribbles a few more notes, erases them, writes over them. The music comes more freely to him without the glasses blocking his vision into the world seen through Natsuki’s eyes, but lately Natsuki has not been removing his glasses as often as he used to. The thought that Natsuki might be letting his guard down, opening himself up to be hurt again is terrifying to Satsuki, and the music he pours onto the pages in front of him is his one opportunity to try to warn his gentler self of the dangers that await him if he opens up his heart to others.

            The lead on his pencil snaps, and he sits up, rubbing his eyes. Setting his papers aside, he reaches into his bag to fetch his pencil sharpener. His fingers brush against his water bottle, and he pulls that out along with the sharpener. When he looks up from his bag, his heart gives a momentary lurch as a dark shadow streaks across his line of vision. _Syo? Can’t be…it’s too soon, I’m not done yet._

            Slowly, with every muscle poised to react, Satsuki looks around to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had startled him. _Must have been my imagination_ , he thinks.

            Then he looks down, reaching for his papers, and gets a second heart attack. There, sitting on top of his precious hard work, is a black cat with startling sea-green eyes staring up at him.

            Instinctively, Satsuki’s about to backhand the cat’s face, but a tickle in the back of his mind halts his raised hand midair. _Ah, Natsuki’s interfering. His love of cute things will get us in trouble one day_. He tries to move his hand again, but he’s frozen. The cat continues to stare at him with an expression that Satsuki thinks makes him look dumber than a bag of hammers. _Why is Natsuki protecting this thing? He’s just a dumb cat._

            Natsuki’s feelings trickle into Satsuki’s thoughts, which Satsuki interprets as _cute_ , _furry_ , and _defenseless_. Satsuki sighs and gives up on forcibly removing the cat. His hand thaws, and he lowers it slowly.

            “Mrrrow?” The cat tilts his head quizzically.

            “Yeah, yeah. I just spared the lives of your two brain cells, so scram already.” Satsuki grips his papers and tries to pull them out from underneath the cat, but the cat flops down on the sheet music, taking up as much surface area as he can manage.

            “Nyaow!”

            “Hey!” Satsuki gives the papers a hard yank, and the cat rolls off the papers, off the bench, and barely lands on his feet on the floor of the gazebo. He dashes off, and Satsuki thinks he’s run him off for good, but the cat stops only a few feet away, staring at him with his tail twitching. Still, not an ounce of wariness lingers in the cat’s expression, which irritates Satsuki to no end. He wants the cat to be scared of him, to run away like every other living thing that encounter’s Satsuki’s wrath. Satsuki can’t decide if the cat is truly dumb or simply lacks all the basic survival instincts present in most other creatures, but he’s had enough of being stared at with those unnervingly guileless sea-green eyes. He grabs the water bottle, which has a sports cap, and squirts the cat’s flank. It’s a direct hit, and the cat takes off like a shot. Satisfied, he takes a swig of water from the bottle, ignoring the angry-feeling tickle in the back of his mind coming from Natsuki. _Can’t be helped_ , he reassures the tickle. _I don’t have that much time to waste on a cat, plus I didn’t hurt him._

            He tries to settle back into composing, but Natsuki’s feelings are distracting him more than usual. That cat is a distraction too – something about his eyes makes Satsuki feel unexpectedly weirded out by them. Despite his dopey expression, that cat’s eyes seem like they belong to a human more than to a cat. Which is just stupid to be thinking about when he should be thinking about music instead. Seriously – how can such a stupid expression simultaneously be so enthralling that Satsuki can’t get it out of his head? His ever-present scowl deepens as he tries to focus.

            “Shit!” He huffs out loud, slamming his pencil down on the bench beside him in frustration - this harmony just won’t come together. Something’s missing from the chord, and the vocal parts he had written in feel forced. _Concentrate, Satsuki_ , he tells himself. _You need to do this for Natsuki, while you have the chance. It’s for his own good_. He takes a deep, calming breath and grabs the water bottle again. Removing the sports cap, he sucks back a large gulp, as if he could wash away both the distracting tickle and that cat’s fascinatingly dumb expression from his mind. He stares at his sheet music again, thinking.

            Then a solitary note resonates in his mind, quiet at first, then growing in intensity. The notes on the page suddenly come together with a unity more powerful than Satsuki could have imagined. He lifts his pencil to fill in the missing part, then blinks. That perfect missing note wasn’t coming from his own mind – it was a delicate, perfectly pitched rumbling sound coming from something hovering near his ear. In fact, it sounds an awful lot like…

            “You again!” Satsuki roars, and in one smooth motion scoops up the water bottle and tips it over the black cat, soaking his own shoulder in the process. The cat leaps off the railing he had been sitting on behind Satsuki, over Satsuki’s wet shoulder, and onto the sheet music laying on Satsuki’s lap where he had placed it while grabbing the water bottle. Satsuki makes a grab for him, and his sheet music slips off his lap as the cat takes another flying leap to the ground. He stands, ready to chase the little shit and beat the crap out of him for messing up his music, when a girl’s voice drifts through the air.

            “Kuppuru! Kuppuru, where are you? Here, kitty kitty. Kuppuru!”

            Both Satsuki and the cat freeze, locking eyes. _Yep – those eyes are definitely still creepy_ , Satsuki thinks. Out loud he whispers, “Is that what you’re called? Kuppuru?” The cat shakes the water out of his fur, then blinks and sits on his haunches. “Mmrrow…”

 _What am I doing, talking to a cat?_ Satsuki kneels down, hoping that the railing and the foliage surrounding the gazebo are enough to hide his large frame. He has no problem swinging his fists if he needs to, but since he hasn’t been discovered yet by that girl (who sounds an awful lot like that girl Natsuki went with to that HAYATO concert), he might as well stay hiding so he can finish his music.

            The cat takes a tentative step forward in Satsuki’s direction, then another, whiskers twitching. _What is with this cat?_ Satsuki thinks. _Most other cats would have been long gone after getting doused with water_. _Oh, but…_ even though it’s a mildly warm day, Satsuki notices that Kuppuru is shivering. “Cold, eh? Well, that’s what you get for interfering with things you don’t understand.” Despite his harsh words, Satsuki can’t seem to bring himself to tear his eyes away from Kuppuru’s gaze, and not once has Kuppuru looked away from him. Kuppuru’s eyes are too expressive, too gentle – it’s like looking at Natsuki if Natsuki were a cat, which stirs up all kinds of conflicting feelings in Satsuki. His impulse to bully the creature collides with his instinct to protect – an instinct usually reserved for Natsuki alone. _Get a grip, Satsuki_ , he tells himself, _or those eyes will be your downfall_.

            As Kuppuru inches closer, Satsuki can hear purring. It’s a different pitch than the purring he heard earlier, the purring that gave him that perfect note…

            Quickly he snatches up the scattered music from the ground and cautiously peeks over the gazebo’s railing. It seems like the girl’s voice isn’t getting closer, but Satsuki doesn’t want to take any chances. He grabs his pencil from the bench he had been sitting on and shuffles his papers in order. He’s ready to fill in the missing note, but as he sits on the ground, leaning back against the bench, his anger flares up again – Kuppuru had left dozens of wet pawprints all over his music! His glare freezes Kuppuru in his tracks, but he does nothing to attract attention to himself in case the girl is closer than he thinks. “Can’t be helped,” he says out loud with an exasperated huff. “I guess this is what I get for dumping water on a dumb animal like you.” He decides to work on his music anyway, hoping that he’ll get a chance to copy the completed version onto clean paper eventually. He twists his torso so that he’s more or less parallel with the bench and places his music on the flat surface to write.

            But as he finally fills in the missing note and moves on with developing the rest of his piece, he can’t help but notice that, more often than not, Kuppuru’s pawprints line up with the notes he wants to fill in on the staves. The breeze brushing over Satsuki’s damp shoulder causes him to shiver occasionally, making him vaguely desirous of a warm shower, but he can’t ignore the pull of the music being drawn out of him. The music flows easily again, and it’s not long before Satsuki is fully absorbed in his music writing – too absorbed, in fact, to notice Kuppuru stealthily climb onto Satsuki’s lap and curl up right over his crotch for warmth.

            Or maybe he simply chooses not to notice.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have the heart to leave Satsuki and Cecil out of this completely, so this...whatever this is...is my attempt to pacify anyone who might be pining away for the grouchy golden-haired musical genius or kitty Cecil. And yes, it's not a shower scene, though water is involved, so there's that. I swear, I can write about more than just showers! I promise!
> 
> And there you have it - Communal Showers: Academy Edition is now complete! It's been interesting to stick within the constraints of a self-imposed theme, and I hope it hasn't turned out boring or repetitive. I look forward to start posting the second part soon, though with real life interfering I might not start until September. =( In any case, keep an eye out for the second part of this series - Communal Showers: Agency Edition!


End file.
